


Pretty Face and Electric Soul

by izanamii



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crack, M/M, Rock Band AU, Wow, and u better believe ushijima is the manager of it, but i'm in college rn and it's my 2nd yr and im taking ochem so needless to say im busy af, hi so i realize this hasn't been updated in ages, hopefully you guys read this.., i hope u catch my drift, just be patient with me pls lol, lots of references to pop culture, shiratorizawa is swanky hotel, the five trash chars are in a band called trash kings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1979688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izanamii/pseuds/izanamii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo Tetsurou is finally living his dream. He's a rock star, front man of the wildly popular new band, Trash Kings, and last weekend he had lunch with The White Stripes. But a chance encounter at one of the Trash Kings' concerts in his home city causes Kuroo to cross paths with Kozume Kenma, a gifted classically-trained musician. Needless to say, Kuroo falls head over heels for his new "musical angel", but Kenma isn't having any of Kuroo's rock and roll bullshit. [[ao3 left 2/3s of the new chapter unposted, i fixed it sorry ;;]]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. City of Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i came up with the idea for this AU in the kenma network with lots of input from some really cool people. hopefully you all enjoy this ; v ;
> 
> btw each chapter will be a song title so yeah, good music. this one is City of Dreams by Alesso

A ruddy yellow no.2 pencil rests between Kuroo’s chapped lips. Kuroo’s fingers mindlessly pluck at a couple sets of chords on his acoustic guitar, a Fender CF104. He starts strumming at a little melody before the inspiration runs dry and he leans back into his chair, groaning.

“God damn, I can’t think of a decent riff for this song.” he whines, leaning up against the table to his side with the sheet music inked up with random chunks of notes. Kuroo pushes his hand up into his messy hair as he stares at his work so far. He’s got a lot of bits and pieces but nothing seems to be stringing it together.

Kuroo sighs. He’s got writer’s block. Of the musical variety, of course, but that doesn’t make him any less tapped out. 

Ah well. No sense beating a dead cat. 

Kuroo gets up from his chair and stretches, one hand reaching down to scratch at the sliver of skin on his navel that shows itself when his black tank top rides up. He shoves his feet in a pair of Bokuto’s childish owl slippers and walks around the hotel suite. 

It’s a rather swanky place now that Kuroo’s looking around the place with sober eyes. Iwaizumi must have finally cracked under Oikawa’s complaining to get them a better place. There’s a nice kitchenette with checkered black and white floor tiles. The appliances are all shiny stainless steel and there’s a nice arrangement of fruit on a glass platter waiting on the counter. Kuroo helps himself to an apple.

The rest of the place is equally as nice. Plush carpets and hardwood floor cover the ground in different areas of the suite. Each bed had been stacked with a ludicrous amount of pillows (at least before Lev and Bokuto had taken a majority of them to make a crappy pillow fort in a corner of the living room) and long vertical windows throughout the area gave the entire space a very modern atmosphere. 

Kuroo sets to making himself a cup of coffee using the fancy Keurig the Shiratorizawa Hotel had provided them. He watches a steady stream of black heavenly goodness flow into his mug as he scratches the side of his butt through his black and red plaid pajama bottoms. 

“Where the fuck is everyone else?” Kuroo asks to no one in particular. He’d woken up halfway off his bed about an hour ago with the dull throb of a headache pressing against his skull. It was to be expected given the amount of booze he’d drank the night before. He and the guys had all gone bar hopping after a night show.

To be fair, things _had_ gotten a little rowdy by the time Bokuto decided to perch himself on the bar and hoot like an owl as Lev went around, sloppily hitting on girls by asking them “If they wanted to be his Mother Russia for the night”. Thus it was no surprise when Iwaizumi had finally tracked the five of them down and dragged their sorry asses back to the hotel where everyone promptly passed the fuck out. 

Kuroo’s eyes finally landed on a yellow sticky note slapped on the fridge. He squints.

**Gone to Denny’s**

It read in a clean script that was clearly Tsukishima’s. Below that was someone else’s large handwriting. 

**THEY HAVE A FUCKIN BALL PIT**

God _dammit_ , Lev.

\---

“You’re just fuckin salty we didn’t wake you up to go to Denny’s with us.” 

“Lev, shut up. I don’t give a damn about a ball pit.” Kuroo pauses for a beat. “How did you even know they had ball pit.”

“Tsukishima reblogged it on Tumblr,” Kuroo gives Tsukishima a look but the blond simply shrugged.

“O-kayyy. Well we need to figure out a set list for the show later this week.” Kuroo props his feet up on the mahogany coffee table. 

Bokuto was idly drumming out a beat on his red drum set. Oikawa chucks a throw pillow him.

“The fuck, man?!” Bokuto cried out, shielding his cymbals from impact.

“Pay attention, stupid! I don’t want this meeting to drag out any longer than it has to. I’m missing my stories!” Lev snickered at the chestnut-haired man.

“You mean your girly soaps?”

“Don’t _even_ with me right now. I’m still hung over from last night.” 

“I think that’s something we can ALL agree with.” Tsukishima drawled, checking his Twitter feed on his phone. 

“Okay so where are we even playin?” Bokuto asked, using one of his drumsticks to scratch his head without messing up the gelled hair.

“You five will be playing in an underground show on the west side of Tokyo.” Iwaizumi answers, coming into the room with his own mug of coffee. He tosses a map of Tokyo with an area circled in red down on the table. The boys all lean in to see.

Kuroo grins.

“Fuckin’ A. Let’s rock n rock.” 

\---

Kuroo Tetsurou, otherwise known as the dangerous badboy frontman of the wildly popular, Trash Kings, had officially began his career in music as a second-year in Nekoma. Music had always been a passion of his and in the past the rooster-haired teen could often be found jamming out on his guitar at the local music bars and cafe joints. But that was all small-time shit.

It wasn’t until he had met his best friend and partner in crime, Bokuto Koutarou back when he was first year, that Kuroo really realized how far he could take this music thing. Bokuto was sick on drums and helped Kuroo come up with beats to his music. The two complemented each other well, Bokuto with his enthusiasm and energy acting as a catalyst to Kuroo’s latent talent and ability. 

Soon after Bokuto, the duo snagged a moody blond named Tsukishima Kei who had the ability to write the most rad, heavy, catchy lyrics despite coming off as having the personality of a grade A asshole. He also provided the two with the backing of a keyboard’s melody. It took a lot of nagging and pestering from the lazy cat and hyperactive owl to get Tsukishima to commit to the musical thing. After all, it wasn’t actually a legit _thing_ just yet. Though Kuroo was determined to make it a reality.

Along came Lev Haiba, a strange Russian kid who Kuroo had taken a liking to from school. Lev liked to act like a dipshit, and he was a dipshit to be honest. But the Russian played a mad bass guitar and Kuroo would have been a fool not to recruit the guy.

Finally the last member of the Trash Kings came in the form of a boy named Oikawa Tooru. Oikawa was vain, self-absorbed and arrogant. And to be totally honest, Kuroo and Bokuto had hated the dude at first. They had run into the guy at a sporting event and the kid was just a downright _dick_ to be around. 

Oikawa’s best friend was Iwaizumi Hajime though, and it was clear that Iwaizumi was going places. His father was a successful businessman and he had been training his son to follow in his footsteps. But Iwaizumi had his own plans to attain success. He saw the potential within Kuroo and his friends. With the right guidance and commitment that group could become something _big_. 

So Iwaizumi asked to become Kuroo and his friends’ manager. He would take a risk on the gang and invest his time and energy (and father’s influence) to get those guys where they wanted to be. 

But they had to let Oikawa into the band as well.

OIkawa had chewed Iwaizumi’s ear off when the latter had told his friend about his plans to take the boys to the top. It wasn’t that Tooru thought his friend couldn’t do it. (Iwa-chan could do anything if he set his mind on it really)

He just didn’t want to be left behind by his only real friend.

He demanded that his inclusion be a part of Iwaizumi’s deal and ultimately he got his wish. Kuroo bit the bullet and agreed. Oikawa took Kuroo’s part as main guitar while Kuroo moved up to back up guitar and lead vocalist. The Trash Kings were officially a five man band.

Things hadn’t been easy at first. After finishing high school the five boys ditched the idea of getting an undergraduate education for a life of being underground musicians, paying their dues in the industry. There was little to no initial success but Kuroo and Bokuto refused to let anything get them down, keeping the others motivated to play _yet another free underground show_ at some place no one had ever heard of.

Slowly but surely though, they gained a following. The Trash Kings’ music appealed to the adolescent and young adult age groups. Their beats were catchy, their lyrics were surprisingly witty and clever, and it definitely didn’t hurt that all five guys were actually damn good looking. (Oikawa especially lavished the attention his looks got him from girls and sometimes even guys...much to Iwaizumi’s displeasure) 

Their MySpace page (as MySpace had now morphed into a hub for music rather than teenage twinks) gained thousands of followers and from there their fans took the reins, bolstering the rock band through anonymity and onto center stage. Eventually the boys began to take a serious profit from their shows and their first EP, Dumpster, actually made it onto Rolling Stones’ list of Top 10 Up-and-Coming Artists. Right alongside Iggy Azalea and Lana Del Rey. (Tsukishima’s glasses had cracked when he heard their album ranked beside his Queen)

So a studio album and a few singles and a tour through the western hemisphere later, the Trash Kings were back home in Japan to play a few shows to show appreciation to the fanbase that had supported them through it all. 

Kuroo thought it was fate that three years later he’d wind up playing a show so close to his old high school. Maybe he would meet with some mystery beauty and fall head over heels. Oh he could definitely write some killer love songs for their next album.

“If you’re thinking of some kind of sappy shit, stop.” Oikawa said as he tried to decide what filter to use for his selfie. He couldn’t decide between Valencia and XX-Pro. He wanted to look tan. 

Kuroo lazily flipped his friend the bird. 

Whatever man, Kuroo believed in that sappy shit and it’d gotten him this far. Besides. Something in his gut told him that this show would be different from the rest.

\---

“Kenma you HAVE to go.”

“Shouyou, I really don-” 

“Isn’t one of them from your high school too?? Oh my god does that make Nekoma some holy ground?” 

“I really don’t think that’s how it works. Plus, Tsukishima went to Karasuno too.” Kenma offered, nesting his phone in the crook of his neck while he tuned the strings of his violin. It was one of his favorite violins, a Cremona SV-1220 his instructor had given him a few months ago.

Kenma heard Hinata hmm’ing in thought over the phone. 

“But still, you need to go!” he insisted. Kenma sighed.

“I don’t even listen to their music though…” Which was true. Maybe it was just him, but Kenma preferred the work of Tschaikovsky or Wagner to the modern pop-rock bullshit that seemed to clutter the radio waves nowadays.

“What?? It’s really good though! This will be a great experience for you then, you’ll totally become obsessed with Trash Kings just like everyone else!” Kenma frowned. Hinata said that like it was a good thing.

“Thanks but I’ll pass..” Kenma could almost hear the pout Hinata had on his face when he said that.

“Kenma I already bought your ticket!” Kenma understood that his best friend had the best intentions but really he didn’t need him inf-

Wait.

What??

“You didn’t.” Again, Hinata’s cheeky smile was almost audible.

“I did! So you have to come, Kenma!” 

Kenma sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“When is it?”

“Hehe! It’s later this week, the venue’s really close to Nekoma actually!”

Kenma let out another sigh as he put his best friend on speaker so he could access his phone’s calendar and edit his calendar for the week. 

Looks like getting perfect town status in Animal Crossing had to wait. Kenma just hoped no other unexpected things would occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive my shitty indulgence in writing this fic


	2. Tick Tick Boom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the overwhelmingly positive response to this thing omg. and i fixed the kozume thing lol. this chapter's title is "Tick Tick Boom" by The Hives.

It was a quiet day at Ishibashi Music, the local music store which Kenma worked at. There had been a few reluctant parents coming in to buy their stubborn kids their first guitars and such but other than that, business had been fairly slow. So Kenma figured it was okay to be playing his old copy of Pokemon Ruby on his trusty Gameboy Advance. Kenma’s excitement for the remakes was unreal so for now all he could do was grind his pokemon team in anticipation.

Just as Kenma was just about to challenge the Elite Four the bell attached to the door rang and some customers came in. Kenma’s eyes flicked from the Gameboy screen to the two figures who had just entered the store. 

They were both two guys of similar height, tall and looking to be in their early twenties. One wore a gray beanie over his messy black hair and a pair of black framed Ray-Bans (though Kenma could clearly tell they were just for show). The man was also slightly tan and had a sleeve of colorful and ornate tattoos leading up onto his right pectoral muscle and wore a black tank top, and some dark wash jeans matched with a pair of combat boots. A red flannel shirt was also tied around his hips. 

The other one had silver spiky hair gelled up to ridiculous heights and a handful of piercings on each of his ears. He wore a white hoodie over a blue undershirt and pair of black cropped leggings over his shorts and a pair of sneakers. Both of them had expressions that read they were up to no good.

Kenma’s brow furrowed and he directed his attention back to his game. No need to bother with those two troublemakers unless they actually needed something. 

“Ok owl boy, go get yourself a new pair of sticks.” the tattooed one said to his friend. “And don’t dick around, I’m hungry as fuck.” His friend snorted.

“Yeah, yeah. But seriously fuck Oikawa for snapping my last pair.” he said, strolling past Kenma’s checkout counter and going straight for the shelves of drumsticks in the back.

“I guess. Iunno, maybe if you didn’t clear out the Tivo recordings every time there’s a marathon of old Spongebob episodes.”

“Aye. Don’t fuckin’ mess with Spongebob, man.” 

“Chill, chill. I’m jussayin,” the tattooed guy said, walking towards his friend and past Kenma as well. Kenma inwardly breathes a sigh of relief.

Which he quickly rescinds because the tattooed hipster guy back tracks to stand at Kenma’s counter and flashes him a toothy grin.

Ughhh.

“Well hello there. Almost passed right by you.” Kenma pursed his lips.

‘I wish you had,’ he thinks.

“You’re fine.” he says instead. The guy smiles and offers his hand as he introduces himself.

“The name’s Tetsurou, nice place you got here. It’s been a while since I’ve been in town, didn’t know an Ishibashi sprung up in the neighborhood.” Kenma shakes his hand to be polite and nods.

“Kenma,” he says even though the silver name tag on his polo shirt should have been enough to suffice. “And yeah, the store’s been around for two years now.” 

Tetsurou hummed and leaned forward, resting an arm flat on the glass counter while the other supported his cheek. Kenma’s eyebrow twitched a bit. He’d have to wipe down that counter later. 

“Man, two years? Jeez where has the time gone.” he drawled. Kenma shrugged and focused on his knocking out Sidney’s Cacturne with his Blaziken. Tetsurou peeked over at Kenma’s Gameboy. “A bug type would be better in the long run.” 

Kenma’s fingers stalled on the gaming console and he blinked a look in Tetsurou’s direction. It wasn’t like he was wrong, but Kenma hadn’t exactly expected any helpful advice from the guy. 

“Thanks, but I’m saving my Scizor for later.” Kenma said, avoiding eye contact with Tetsurou after his grin grew even cheekier. It really wasn’t that Kenma wanted to be an antisocial little prick, he just wasn’t all that comfortable with talking to strangers (he could _deal_ with them, yes but that was a part of his job). Kenma preferred to keep to himself and besides, Tetsurou came off as an overbearing guy. In both his appearance and his general demeanor. Kenma felt like he had to be on his toes around the dude.

“Okay I’ll get these ones!” a boisterous voice interrupted their conversation. Tetsurou’s friend came up to the counter and handed Kenma a pair of the Vic Firth’s more pricier drum sticks. Kenma nodded and rang him up as the two friends chatted. Something about a band.  
Maybe they were in town for the Trash Kings concert tonight? 

Kenma didn’t bother to ask and the two got ready to leave the store. But before they did Tetsurou smiled over his shoulder at Kenma and gave him a lazy two fingered salute.

“Seeya around, Gameboy kid,” he said with a wink. Kenma bristled in response.

What a weird guy.

\---

Ushijima Wakatoshi would definitely consider himself a composed man. He always seemed to have everything in his life under control and indeed, he worked hard to keep things that way. Ushijima hadn’t always led the easiest life and he grew up understanding it was truly a dog-eat-dog world. One had to be strong to survive. He learned that from his old mentor, a blond-haired man named Fukutomi who had given Ushijima his first job at the Shiratorizawa Hotel back when he was still the manager of the establishment.

Ushijima worked all over the hotel, cleaning floors, carrying luggage, and bussing tables in the hotel’s own four star restaurant; he became a jack of all trades. His previous brash and stubborn temperament mellowed out and had been honed into one of temperance and stability. Finally in the later years of his twenties, Ushijima had worked his way up the ladder and taken over as manager when Fukutomi retired to devote himself to cycling.

As manager, Ushijima was prepared to handle any situation, any guest.

“Go Bokuto, go!” 

“Hoooaagyahhhh!” 

Just maybe not ones like these.

A loud crash echoed in the lobby.

Ushijima strode over to the three “rockstar” guests who were currently going on a rampage in the hotel lobby. He frowned at the two who had just ridden and crashed luggage carts into each other. Bokuto and Lev, those two fucking idiots, just grinned and snickered at the peeved hotel manager.

He lifted the two luggage carts back up and pushed them in the direction of a nearby employee. Wait, hadn’t there been one more of them terrorizing his lobby before?

...

Shit. 

Oikawa.

“Yahoo!!” said man bellowed as Ushijima whipped around just in time to see him coast through the lobby in his own luggage cart. Bokuto and Lev hooped and hollered at their friend, cheering him on.

“Yeah, go Oikawa!” Bokuto yelled.

“DO IT FOR THE VINE!” Lev shouted. Ushijima’s eyes widened as he saw Oikawa was on track to collide head on with an elevator. 

“Oikawa, NO!” he yelled, but the man made a sour face at him and shouted back.

“Oikawa, YES!”

The luggage cart burst into the elevator just as its doors opened and OIkawa crashed into the back wall of the elevator while the doors closed again. There was the sound of a groan and a ping noise as the elevator started to rise to the 22nd floor. 

Ushijima buried his face in his hand, groaning to himself over the headache that was now assaulting him. The two dipshits still on the ground simply cackled.

“You know he dead.” Tsukishima said, magically appearing and walking past the three with his hands in his pockets, ever the cool cucumber.

\---

Kenma pushed past the masses of people in his way. He was currently in the pit of the outdoor shed auditorium where the Trash Kings’ concert was being held. The venue was arranged as a massive semicircle with the stage in the middle of the flat side of the shape. In front of the stage was a hollowed out rectangular area where people clamoured in to get a better view of the band and generally mosh the whole concert away.

And HInata was located somewhere in that pit. 

Keyword: _somewhere_

Kenma hadn’t been able to make it to the concert in time due to some unforeseen complications. (He’d gotten home late from work then fell asleep playing Pokemon. But hey, on the bright side he had beaten Ruby)

By the time Kenma had woken up and scrambled to get ready before arriving at the venue, the concert was already 2/3rds of the way over. It was a good thing Hinata had given him his ticket the day before otherwise Kenma wouldn’t be scrambling right now to try and navigate his way through a sea of sweaty concert-goers. Not that that was much of a plus either, but yeah.

‘Oh my god, I give up. There’s no way I’ll be able to find HInata and he hasn’t responded to any of my texts either’ Kenma thought, frustrated and tired of shoving his way through wave after wave of strangers. He looked toward the stage which was only a mere twenty feet away from him. Truth be told, Kenma had been so preoccupied with his situation he hadn’t paid much attention to the band.

Right now the Trash Kings were playing a song from their recent album. Kenma didn’t know the name of it since he didn’t really listen to them (also the song was all in English, a given since they had released the album before their first world tour) but the energy emanating from five playing on stage was palpable. Everyone was bouncing to the beat of the music as the drummer and guitarists went into another heavy drive.

Kenma figured that with his small stature he could make his way near the front somehow. And he sent about to doing that, dodging elbows and swaying hips all along the way until he was just behind the girl to the left leaning on the guardrail. Kenma’s eyes widened.

Up close the experience was much more incredible. 

Kenma felt the pulse of the music pounding from the speakers and he was entranced by the precise movements of the main guitarist’s fingers, seemingly dancing between frets. The singer’s hushed murmurs melted into the music before he bellowed out into the last verse of the song.

_“And I wonder_  
If everything could ever feel this real forever  
If anything could ever be this good again…” 

\---

Kuroo loved being on stage. He loved being out there, front and center, belting his heart out and jamming on his guitar. Every concert felt like the first. He felt the same rush of fear, excitement, joy and adrenaline boiling under his skin that would only subside once he stepped in front of a crowd and started playing. Some nights he still couldn’t believe he and his friends had made it.

They’d beaten the ludicrous odds against them and this was now their lives. 

The Trash Kings were bona fide rock stars and they got _paid_ to do this shit. Play at sold-out shows in arenas packed with thousands of people, travel to every part of the world and turn every thought, emotion and memory into music. 

Kuroo felt goosebumps dance up his spine as he began singing the last lines of the song.

_“...The only thing I'll ever ask of you  
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when,”_

He and Oikawa leaned towards each other as they dug into the last chords of the song while Bokuto pounded out the ending beat behind them. Kuroo raised his pick arm up in the air when the song was finished, closing his eyes and panting slightly as he the crowd screamed. He soaked in the audience’s energy for a few seconds before giving Oikawa a fistbump and returning his mic to the stand.

The other four began moving around and preparing themselves for the last song in their set. Kuroo grinned at the mob of people packed like sardines before him.

“Y’know, five years ago I was just some dipshit kid with a guitar who had this whack-ass dream of being a rock star.” he said, closing his eyes and chuckling at the memory of those days. “Can’t tell you how stoked the boys and I are to be here playing for everyone right now”

The audience burst into an outpour of cheers.

“So this last song is dedicated to those of you still making your way there.” Kuroo said as he took off his guitar and placed it on a stand near him.

Oikawa started the opening riffs with Tsukishima backing him up with his synth. Slowly Bokuto began to tap out the beat. Kuroo pulled the mic closer to his lips as Lev murmured into his own mic.

_“When I wake up I’m afraid, somebody else might take my place  
When I wake up I’m afraid, somebody else might take my place.”_

Kuroo sang through the first verse of the song, swaying the upper half of his body to the song’s rhythm. He was practically crooning into the microphone and his eyes wandered through the crowd, occasionally making eye contact with a concert-goer and quite possibly making their fucking _life_ in doing so.

He was just that good.

_“You’re too mean, I don’t like you. Fuck you anyway  
You make me wanna scream...at the top of my lungs.”_

Kuroo’s gaze swept over the lucky kids near the front. Those guys really were troopers. Kuroo remembered his days fighting to the front of pack at concerts. He noticed a familiar head of a hair though.

Pudding head?

Oh. It was the kid from Ishibashi. The one with the overgrown roots playing Pokemon. 

Kuroo smiled at the guy. It was Kenma right? But Kenma didn’t seem to notice him though. He was too busy listening to Kuroo singing. His body seemed to be swaying along to the music and one of his arms was raised together with everyone else. Kenma really seemed to be enjoying himself.

It was pretty cute.

Lev followed up with the chorus which would then lead into an instrumental interlude from the rest of the guys. That gave Kuroo a little time to try something out and have a little fun for himself. He motioned over to one of the concert staff members.

\---

Kenma didn’t want to admit it, but these guys were really good. Like really, really good.   
The last song succeeded in getting his blood pumping and Kenma felt the extra surge of adrenaline being near the front row gave people, so he couldn’t help but jump along with everyone else. The influence of the rest of the audience had moved Kenma more, but that changed when the Trash Kings started their next song.

The current song the band was playing, Kenma honestly connected and related with. The smooth echoing of the guitar and the low, almost liquid tone of the singer’s voice resonated with the crowd. And the subject matter of the song was something Kenma could _definitely_ empathize with.

The fear of being left behind, of being _replaced_ by someone else. God that was something that Kenma understood all too well. 

Being too anxious to be yourself, to act how _you_ wanted rather than how others would want you. But at the same time being trapped by vying for the attention of the very people who were keeping you bound by their expectations.

Kenma swallowed and felt his heart pound heavily.

I mean, it didn’t take fucking Sherlock Holmes to figure out that Kenma wasn’t a people person. He had issues interacting with others and he found himself overthinking the smallest of things which just led to even more distance between Kenma and those other people. Kenma hated the feeling of a people’s eyes being on him. It made him feel like he was losing his breath. Drowning under all that scrutiny and attention.

His memory flashed to a concert hall. 

A broken violin and a topped music stand, sheets of music strewn all over the stage.

The apathetic eyes of a man and woman.

A couple. 

His parents.

Kenma’s throat constricted as he felt a familiar lump lodged in there.

_“Being me can only mean_  
Feeling scared to breathe  
If you leave me then I’ll be afraid of everything  
That makes me anxious, gives me patience, calms me down  
Lets me face this, let me sleep, and when I wake up (I wake up, I wake up)  
Let me be,” 

The bassist who was acting as back-up singer sang the chorus and soon enough the song came to a close and the concert was over. Kenma lowered his arm and peered up with the rest of the audience at the stage where some of the band members were finally loosening up now that their set had ended. Kenma watched the main vocalist take a swig from his water bottle.

The guy’s name was Kuroo from what he could tell since the crowd had been chanting his name earlier in the concert. He was very tall and built with lanky muscle and his hair was positively wild, a dark black and sticking up almost like a rooster. But his voice and his eyes were utterly magnetic and succeeded in drawing Kenma in just like everyone else.

The way he moved around the stage like it was his playground and he was simply showing the crowd around his place was amazing. Kuroo had real stage presence and his charisma was incredible. Kenma felt the same longing and attraction that everyone in the audience probably felt for the guy. He was like an idol atop his rock and roll pedestal. 

“We’d like to thank you all for coming out!” the drummer yelled out.

The crowd screamed in response.

“We love you guys so much!” the main guitarist followed up. He was the pretty boy in the group, his looks and attitude definitely qualified him for that position.

And as such, the ladies in the audience shrieked back words of love and adoration to him.

“Goodnight, everyone!!” the bassist waved as the band members started to exit the stage. This was the audience’s cue to start doing the same. Everyone began shuffling and shifting towards the pit’s exit and Kenma got ready to follow suit.

But a person tapped him on the shoulder.

Kenma turned around and saw a man in a black suit with a silver Bluetooth in his ear. He must have been a part of security or something. He had slightly messy dark hair and a calm, but noticeably bored expression on his face.

“Excuse me, but a member of the band would like to speak with you. Follow me please.” he said, unlocking the guard rail’s door and opening it for Kenma.

Kenma didn’t really know what to do. He was shocked that someone in the band wanted to see him. I mean, he was just one in the tens of thousands of people who had come out to see the Trash Kings play. And it wasn’t like he was friends with any of the members of the band? He hadn’t even listened to any of their music before tonight.

Kenma had no idea what the correct course of action was in this type of situation.

But he figured it would be rude to turn down the band’s offer to speak with them. Plus the guy in front of him was kind of intimidating. He didn’t seem like the type to take no for an answer.

So Kenma followed him up onto the stage and into the back to meet with the band members.

But what business could the Trash Kings possibly have with him?

\---

“Guys, where’s Akaashiiiii?” Bokuto whined as he spun around in a swivel chair. The Trash Kings were currently resting for a bit in their dressing room backstage before they got ready to head back to the hotel. Everyone was worn out so no one paid any attention to Bokuto’s complaining.

“Guuuuuuys, stop ignoring meeeee.” Bokuto’s voice reached an even higher frequency of annoying.

“Kuroo sent him out on an errand or something.” Tsukishima said. 

Bokuto pouted. He really liked hanging out with Akaashi. Iwaizumi had hired the man a while back to be in charge of the band’s security detail once the Trash Kings began to get popular. Bokuto adored his fans, don’t get him wrong, but sometimes they could be a bit too much and things could get _weird_. One time a few “dedicated” fans had snuck onto their tour bus and took it upon themselves to snag some “memorabilia” before leaving. 

Oikawa had lost his favorite pair of leather pants that day

He’d whined and bitched so much that no one could forget it either. 

It was after that incident that Iwaizumi brought Akaashi Keiji as their head of security. Akaashi was a literal powerhouse, despite his nonchalant and cool demeanor the man was a 7th dan in karate and Sambo Kandidat Master. Akaashi watched the group like a hawk during all their concerts, tours, interviews, you name it. 

Not to mention he was one of the few people who would _willingly_ humor Bokuto other than Kuroo. Akaashi listened to all Bokuto’s lame jokes, outlandish stories and junk. Albeit he did so with the same indifferent expression, Bokuto still really appreciated it. 

Bokuto pouted some more and spun faster.

“Akaashiiiiii!” he called out.

“Stop spinning like that, you’ll upset your stomach and get sick on the ride home.” Akaashi said, walking into the room with a certain pudding-haired kid behind him.

Bokuto popped up from his chair and smiled at Akaashi like an excited puppy. 

“Akaashi!” Akaashi frowned a bit but acknowledged the owl boy regardless.

“Where’s Kuroo? I brought the guy.” he asked, motioning over at Kenma who was still standing beside him looking very much like a lost kitten. He still didn’t know why the hell he was here. And those were the Trash Kings, the actual band members in the flesh. Holy shit.

“Kuroo’s rifling through some stuff in the other dressing room right now.” Oikawa answered, leering at Kenma who fidgeted nervously under his intense gaze. “You can go over and check on him though, Pudding-chan.” 

Kenma couldn’t keep from scowling at the man. Rock star or not, Kenma had a name and it sure as hell wasn’t Pudding-chan. 

But he didn’t feel like arguing with this guy. And he really wanted to know what Kuroo, the fucking _leader_ of the Trash Kings, wanted with him. Kenma was just an average guy if you put aside his affinity for the violin and classical music. And even then, no one outside of a handful of his friends and family knew about his talents. It was something that went back to Kenma’s displeasure of unwanted attention.

Kenma nodded at Oikawa and he awkwardly walked over to the other door across the room. It was awkward because everyone else had gone back to doing whatever they were doing before. Oikawa was tweeting at the speed of light, Tsukishima was wiping down his keyboards and Lev and Bokuto were babbling loudly to Akaashi. No one even paid him any mind. 

It was weird. But Kenma was grateful for that.

He opened the door and walked in.

“Excuse m-” Kenma’s voice died in his throat when he saw Kuroo.

Shirtless. 

Only wearing a pair of black pants.

And they were really fucking tight.

Ohmy _god_.

“I-I...I’m so s-sorry!” Kenma sputtered, his face flushed red with embarrassment. Kuroo chuckled.

“S’all right, haha. No harm done.” 

Pfft. Easy enough for him to say. Kenma’s _fucking brain_ was currently short-circuiting. If he thought Kuroo was attractive before, holy shit this was on a whole other level. Kuroo was really fucking hot like. _What_.

Kuroo had definite muscle tone and a six pack. He had tattoos as well. A lot of them. A full out sleeve of them on his right arm that stretched past his shoulders. Wait. 

What the hell. 

Those were the exact same tattoos that had been on…and without the glasses and the beanie...

Oh. My. _God_.

**NO**.

“T..Tetsurou?” Kenma asked, suddenly feeling very out of breath.

Kuroo’s face brightened up and he stuck his tongue out a bit.

“Told ya I’d see you around, Gameboy kid,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ishibashi music is an actual japanese music store chain, and they do have stores in tokyo, yokohama, chiba, saitama, etc. vic firth is a drum stick brand and some of their sticks can be HELLA expensive. the two songs the trash kings sang were "Everlong" by the Foo Fighters and "Afraid" by The Neighbourhood. sambo is a russian martial art and kandidat master is the level before actual master. ((as you can see i reference a lot of real stuff haha))
> 
> as always pls leave kudos and comments if you have suggestions or ideas or just wanna babble, i love reading what you guys have to say!


	3. What You Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks for the positive feedback! i love hearing from you guys ; v ;
> 
> chapter title is from "What You Know" by Two Door Cinema Club

Tsukishima sifted through the Trash Kings’ official twitter feed, tapping out favorites and retweets from their online fanbase. The blond was in charge of the band’s social media especially after a spectacular debacle with Lev taking over the group’s official tumblr to shitpost memes, the responsibility had been given to Tsukishima.

The boy wordlessly took a quick candid shot of Oikawa, Lev, and Bokuto sleeping in the back of Akaashi’s SUV to upload onto Instagram. Their bodyguard was currently transporting the five and their manager back to the Shiratorizawa. Iwaizumi was sitting shotgun beside Akaashi while Kuroo and Tsukishima sat in the row behind them. The other three had just squeezed into the back to sleep through the ride. Tsukishima quickly added a caption and pressed send.

_Time for some R &R. Thanks again for such a great show! #trashkings #thankstokyo #oikawasnores_

Within seconds the likes and comments started flowing in so Tsukishima put his phone back in his pocket. He glanced over at Kuroo who sat one seat to his left.

Their lead vocalist seemed very distracted after vacating their dressing room when he’d spoken to the kid with the bad dye job.

It’d been a really odd experience all in all to be honest.

The kid had burst out of the second dressing room within moments of just entering, all weird and red-faced, clearly upset by whatever he’d witnessed inside the room. And then moments after that, Oikawa’s assistant, Kageyama Tobio, also came into the room with some upset ginger kid.

\---

_“I-I’m really sorry, but this guy keeps badgering me to let him in backstage. His name is Hinata Shouyou and he says his friend Kenma was taken back here by Akaashi-san.” Kageyama stammered, trying to hold back HInata who was doing everything in his power to sneak past Kageyama._

_OIkawa frowned at his assistant, not even paying Hinata or what he’d just said any attention._

_“Nevermind that. Did you get me that mineral water I asked for, Tobio-chan?” Kageyama stiffened. Shit, he’d forgotten all about OIkawa’s mineral water, what with trying to keep that Hinata guy from ransacking the auditorium’s backstage to find his friend._

_HInata used that moment to squeeze past Kageyama._

_“Kenma! There you are! I was looking all over for you, oh my god.” he said, running over to Kenma and grabbing his arms. Kenma jumped a bit and blinked._

_“S-Shouyou!” Kenma simply stared at his friend, not knowing what else to say. HIs mind was still in a daze after that concert and the realization about Tetsurou. Oh my god, that guy. Kenma felt his cheeks heat up again._

_“Next time tell me where you wander off, haha! But it’s getting really late so we should get going now.” HInata pulled Kenma in the direction of the exit. He shot Kageyama a bright smile on his way out. “Thanks for all your help, Kageyama!”_

_Kageyama twitched and did a thing with his lip, but nonetheless he waved at the two leaving._

_Just then Kuroo came out of the second dressing room, fully clothed now._

_“Aw, leaving so soon, Kenma?” he called out teasingly. Kenma gave him another embarrassed look but didn’t stop to entertain Kuroo any more._

_Kuroo chuckled while OIkawa poked his assistant with one of Bokuto’s new drumsticks._

_“Kageyama. Where’s the fucking mineral water.”_

_\---_

Yeah, it was all a very strange experience. Getting some weird fans sneaking into the dressing rooms wasn’t exactly out of the norm cause Akaashi quickly dealt with any intruders, but it was rare that any of the band members would invite people backstage on their own. And especially not without giving the others a heads up either.

“Oi, Kuroo.”

“Mm?”

“What’s the deal with that Kenma kid you brought backstage?” Tsukishima asked plainly. Kuroo’s head lolled to the side lazily, offering the blond a coy smile.

“Nuthin’ much. It was just kind of on a whim.”

“That so?” Tsukishima grunted.

“Ohh? Do I sense a hint of concern, Tsukki?” Kuroo teased, causing the blond to roll his eyes.

“Hardly.” he replied and ended the conversation.

Well whatever game Kuroo was playing at, Tsukishima didn’t see a point taking part in it.

__\---_ _

Kenma often thinks that the universe is against him. Like if a person’s life were a story then everyone else would have perfect uniform plotlines from start to finish while Kenma’s is just a freaking collection of typos and loose ends.

I mean, look at him. Kenma’s awkward, anti-social, kinda scrawny, and gets a mild amount of anxiety when he’s around a group larger than four people. He’s a third-year in high school, but he’s only got a handful of friends to show for it and Kenma’s one real friend, Shouyou, doesn’t even go to his high school. Kozume Kenma is your standard wallflower, invisible and unnoticed by the majority of human society.

But that vast majority does not include Kuroo Tetsurou.

The world famous rock star, iconic bad boy, and international lady killer with a voice like velvet and godly abilities to shred on a guitar. Yes, _that_ Kuroo Tetsurou.

“Are you really going to keep coming here to pester me?” Kenma asked, glaring at said rock star, who had come by Ishibashi Music for the fourth time this week.

Kuroo grinned his little shitty grin that made all the ladies swoon, but on Kenma it just kind of makes him cringe.

“Most people would be awfully flattered.” he said cheekily.

“I’d like to think you’d noticed that I’m not like _most people_ by now, Kuroo.” Kenma replied easily, glancing at the clock to see how close it was to the end of his shift. Unfortunately Kenma still had a good three hours left on clock.

“That you aren’t, heartbreak. That you aren’t.” Kuroo turned around to glance at some of the new guitars that Ishibashi had recently acquired. They were Ibanez, one of Kuroo’s favorite mainstream brands.

Kenma’s brows furrowed at the mention of the new nickname that Kuroo had recently been applying to him. He’d started calling him “heartbreak” ever since Kenma had left the dressing room that day.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” he asked.

“What? Heartbreak? Iunno it seems to suit you.” Kenma only frowned more.

“How so?”

Kuroo spun on his heel to face Kenma again and leaned on his glass counter the way he had grown accustomed to doing the past few days.

“You definitely seem like the type that would break some hearts.” Kenma had to keep himself from snorting at that comment. HIm? Breaking hearts? Haha, maybe in a dating sim. But real life? Pfft.

“Oh really? LIke whose? I don’t exactly see a line formed for me.” Kenma retorted with sarcasm.

Kuroo shrugged.

“Well you’re welcome to start at mine then.”

Kenma blinked, but he willed the blush blooming on his cheeks to desist.

Kuroo had been using cheap lines like that on him all week to get under Kenma’s skin. At first he’d been reduced to a stuttering, blushy mess but over time Kenma got used to it and he could simply brush Kuroo’s honey-laden words aside with some effort.

“Though, I must confess, heartbreak. I’ve been told by many a dame that I’m a cold-hearted jerkface.” Ahh yes, it was no secret that Kuroo had his fair share of girlfriends, all exes now for a multitude of reasons. However Kenma had a feeling he could see why they all ended that way.

“Color me surprised.”

“I would, but you’re looking a bit pink in the face, heartbreak.” Kuroo eyed the light blush on Kenma’s cheeks with interest. Kenma turned away from Kuroo’s gaze. Dammit. “Can’t say it’s a bad look on you, though.” Kuroo added, grinning some more.

“Whatever.” Kenma replied, refusing to meet Kuroo eye-to-eye.

Match point, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Sensing he’d won their little battle of wills, Kuroo straightened his back and folded his arms behind his head. His gray beanie slid back a bit and some of Kuroo’s unruly black hair popped forward.

“Welp, it’s been real, heartbreak. But I’ve got band practice in a bit so I’ve gotta split.” Kuroo smiled, glancing up at the clock himself.

“Okay.” Kenma replied, still not interested in what Kuroo had to say.

“Later, heartbreak.” Kuroo leaned over the counter to ruffle Kenma’s hair much to the latter’s surprise and displeasure, but Kuroo left before Kenma had the chance to yell at him.

What a fucking weirdo.

\---

Jesus fucking Christ.

Iwaizumi had had it up to _here_ with Lev and Bokuto.

Those two dipshits had rung up such a fucking bill by abusing the phone and calling room service every hour for whatever godforsaken request or snack that had come across their damn pea-sized brains. Even the hotel manager, Ushijima, had come up to talk to Iwaizumi about their constant calling. Really, who asks for fifteen inflatable dinosaurs at three in the morning??

Dumbasses, that’s who.

But unfortunately for Iwaizumi, he was the manager of those two dumbasses so he had to deal with their shit.

“I swear to god, if you two order ANYTHING else from room service, I will fucking shave you both bald.” Iwaizumi bit out, shooting daggers at both Lev and Bokuto who were sitting on the sofa while Iwaizumi stood in front, threatening them.

Bokuto’s hands went up to his gelled hair protectively. Lev visibly paled at the thought of being bald. Lev had an oddly shaped head, so like, he was insecure about it. Back in Russia the kids had called him умник лев, or “Egghead Lev” in English.

Those were dark times.

“Y-You can’t get rid of our hair!” Lev protested. “What about our image?”

Iwaizumi scoffed.

“I decide what the band’s image is. I’m marketing you dumbasses.” Bokuto and Lev withered in their seats. “Anyways, do I make myself clear? No. More. Room service.”

“Crystal” they both replied.

\---

“Dude I’m fucking _starving_.” Lev grumbled. Bokuto groaned, feeling the same.

“Ditto, man. But you heard Iwaizumi, our room service privileges have been revoked.”

“I know, but still I could eat like a mountain of fast food right now.” he whined. Bokuto sat up a bit.

“...Then why don’t we?” Bokuto replied honestly. Lev sat up as well, the gears in his brain turning.

“Bro. Let’s make fast food lasagna. Like Epic Meal Time.” he suggested, thinking of his favorite Youtube channel. Bokuto gasped slowly.

“ _Bro_.”

“Bro, let’s go!” Lev bounced to his feet and ran to the door of their suite, leaving Bokuto behind.

“Bro, wait up!”

This was the best fucking idea ever.

\---

This was not the best fucking idea ever.

Things had started off pretty swag when Lev and Bokuto had first rolled up to McDonalds to pick up sixteen Big Macs. From then they had collected fifteen Baconators, eight things of Arbys’ fries, and a shitton of KFC biscuits. Bokuto also grabbed a liter of Cane’s sauce to add some zest to it all.

Assembling the fast food lasagna had been a grand old time as well. Everyone was out doing errands or something so Lev and Bokuto had the kitchen to themselves. It smelled heavenly when they shoved their masterpiece in the oven and it came out looking even better than when it went in too.

Who makes fast food lasagna?

Fucking _geniuses_ , that’s who.

But things quickly went downhill.

Cause y’know.

Fast food lasagna’s actually like...kinda fucking gross.

Bokuto and Lev hadn’t even finished half of their monstrosity and Lev was already on the verge of blowing chunks all over the place. And Bokuto didn’t feel very gucci either.

“Dude, we’re fucking screwed.” Bokuto moaned, rubbing his aching stomach. “Iwaizumi’s gonna fucking kill us. He’s gonna shave us bald. We’ll be fucking bald, Lev.”

Lev whimpered in his food-induced stupor.

“I don’t wanna be an egghead..”

Bokuto gave his friend a weird look. What the fuck?

“Hey guys, I’m back from my interview with GQ Japan. What’s up?” Oikawa said, entering the kitchen. The guitarist stared at the mess all over the place and the strange pan of food sitting half-eaten on the table. “What the fuck happened here?”

Bokuto and Lev made some incoherent noises and motioned at the “lasagna” on the table.

Oikawa cocked a neatly plucked brow, but nonetheless approached the strange dish.

He took Lev’s fork and tried some of it.

“Wait, no, OIkawa! It’s actually really really gr-” Bokuto started.

“This is delicious!” Oikawa interrupted, smiling at him.

“Wha-huhhh?” Lev groaned in confusion. Bokuto blinked.

“Do you mind if I have the rest of it then if you guys aren’t gonna eat it?” OIkawa asked, already picking up the pan.

“Uhh, um, go ahead, man.” Bokuto stammered, in shock that OIkawa ‘I’m on a juice cleanse’ Tooru was into that gross stuff.

“Cool, thanks!” Oikawa took tray and left.

“..What the fuck?” Lev wondered out loud. Bokuto shrugged and slumped back in his chair, still feeling every bit as sick as before, if not more after seeing that hungry gleam in OIkawa’s eyes once he saw the fast food lasagna.

The world is a weird place.

\---

The world is terribly vast and confusing, but Kenma has one place he knows belongs to him and him alone. A place where he can go to escape and be alone. And no, it’s not his bedroom. Kenma’s not a complete shut-in, contrary to popular belief. The place Kenma is referring to is an old theater. Nine stops from the metro in Tokyo is a small rundown neighborhood. From what Kenma knew it had been a hub of life during WW2, but as the good times ended with Japan’s surrender, so did the business in the town.

Most buildings and shops in that town were vacated and left free to squatters and general dilapidation. This included the old musical theater that had once been a center of culture for the town.

Kenma had stumbled across the ghost town when he had fallen asleep on the train and missed his stop. He found the town’s eerie emptiness interesting, especially the abandoned theater which he discovered while chasing a stray cat that had been poking through some trash.

If there was one animal that Kenma really liked, it would be the cat. He just identified with them for some reason, and Kenma had simply wanted to pet the poor cat before it had run off. She was probably very lonely in the empty town.

But the cat had run off into theater, entering the building through a hole in its side. Out of curiosity, Kenma followed the cat inside (he came in through the main doors, of course). What he found was a grand stage with ample seating on the first and second floor. The stage was decorated with withered, but ornate golden designs and framed by wine-colored curtains that had probably been ruby red in the theater’s hey day.

Kenma also learned that the cat wasn’t lonely at all. She in fact had three other brothers and and sisters that lived in the theater with her. How they’d come to survive in the theater was a mystery, but Kenma quickly won them over by giving the four his leftover bento. He was lucky there had been a lot of fish packed in there that time.

Besides his lunch, Kenma had also brought his violin with him. It was one of his older ones, a Merano MV10. On a whim, Kenma had decided to get up on the abandoned stage and play through a movement of Beethoven that he had memorized the night before.

As expected, the acoustics in the theater were spectacular. Every note echoed through the building and the air hummed with music.

At least on an empty stage like this, Kenma felt at ease enough to play freely and practice without worry. After all, his only audience was a handful of stray cats whom he had befriended and subsequently named after some of history’s greatest composers: Bach, Schumann, Haydn, and Wolfgang. The cats seemed to enjoy his music too. They were quiet listeners, watching Kenma play with rapt attention unless a stray mouse wandered into the building.

Kenma was thankful he had found such a great secret escape.

But evidently, he was not the first to discover the theater.

Once when Kenma had explored the rest of the building, he’d found a old black notebook of manuscript paper that someone had filled with their original music along with their own musings. While Kenma had tried to play some of the music in the notebook on his violin, he figured the composer had written the music for another instrument as the notes didn’t translate very well on his violin.

That was fine because what Kenma really found interesting were the little handwritten notes that appeared in the notebook every now and then between all the music.

**Other people seem strange, but I wonder how strange I must appear to them.**

**I wanna turn my every thought into music.**

**People are so quick to judge and make assumptions.**

**No one knows what their future may hold, so it’d be nice if people stopped telling me what to do with mine.**

**One day I’ll find my way out of this town, just to follow the music.**

Every note was initialed by the same person.

**KT**

And while Kenma would probably never learn the identity of that mysterious KT, he really related to that person. From their notes Kenma could tell they both had difficult home lives (especially with their parents), were misunderstood by pretty much _everyone_ , had the same insecurities about their self image and future, and they both absolutely _loved music_. Kenma and KT both viewed music as an escape and had found this abandoned theater as a sanctuary for their passion.

Kenma loved to come to the theater, visit/feed his cats, and play violin for them. It was a private joy that Kenma shared with no other, except maybe KT, whoever they were.

Kenma wondered what happened with them. If they ever did get out and chase after their dreams and how that all worked out. He wished KT the best of luck and in the back of his mind, Kenma hoped to one day talk to them.

They would probably be the person that understood Kenma the best.

\---

Kuroo yawned and scratched at his back. It was getting to be late in the day and the sun was starting to set. It was also a Saturday so Kenma was off work that day. Boo, no heartbreak for Kuroo today. What a pity.

Regardless, Kuroo still had plans. He and the rest of the guys had been doing some sightseeing around town for old time’s sake. It was always interesting to seeing how things had changed since you’d been gone. It made everything feel so much more real. Being on tour constantly jetsetting around the world was fun, but Kuroo didn’t really have a sense of time with everything going on and being so busy and shit. It was nice to know his hometown was still static.

But there was one place that Kuroo wanted to visit on his own though.

An abandoned theater, in a rundown town nine stops off the Tokyo metro. The town had been a center of corruption and avarice at the peak of WW2. Fat cats covered the area with businesses started up from crooked military bonds and ladies of “lesser virtue” prowled the streets. The theater had been a testament to the town’s ego, being a grandiose structure for the arts in a town consumed by greed. But with the end of the second world war, a blight quickly caused the town to wither and the theater became abandoned.

That is, until Kuroo had stumbled across the building. He’d come to the town after reading about it in some history book and decided to go sightseeing in the ghost town.

But Kuroo found a stray kitten ambling through the town as well. The wee thing was thin as a rail and had been frightened by Kuroo when he had approached her. Kuroo followed the kitten to the theater where he found her three other siblings. All four of them were orphaned it seemed and took shelter in the theater.

Kuroo had a thing for cats and quickly gave the kittens the lunch he’d packed, a tuna fish sandwich, ironically. The kittens were very thankful and warmed up easily to Kuroo who accepted their newfound affection. He even went so far as to name them after some of his favorite rock stars: Elvis, Hendrix, Ozzy, and Joplin.

From then on Kuroo started to come to the theater to care for his cats, jam out on his guitar and write music. Back then, Kuroo had just started getting into playing guitar. He already loved it even though no one seemed to support him. He had dreams of becoming a rock star himself and liked to play on the stage for his cats (Kuroo’s first “live audience”) and mind you they were hella supportive.

Kuroo kept coming to the theater as time went on, that place was his escape from the real world. There in that rundown theater, Kuroo could be anything he wanted to be.

There, he was a rock star rather than just a gangly kid with crazy hair who liked music and guitar more than sports.

He kept returning to the theater up until the Trash Kings left for their first tour and it’d been ages since then. And now that Kuroo was back in town, he _had_ to go back.

If anything just to see his cats.

So he went. He took the ninth stop off the metro and walked through the same old ghost town. He stood before the same old shitty theater and went inside and saw the same old gaudy stage with the distasteful curtains and gold decor.

But someone was on stage.

And that someone was definitely not Kuroo.

It was Kenma.

Of all people, Kenma, the strange kid he’d just met not too long ago and started messing with to pass the time, had found Kuroo’s theater and was standing on Kuroo’s stage.

Kuroo would have been upset to be honest.

That is, if Kenma hadn’t been _performing_ on the stage as well.

He was playing on the violin to some beautiful and haunting classical piece that made the hairs on the back of Kuroo’s neck rise.

Kenma was fucking _gifted_ , holy shit.

Kuroo had heard many people play violin given his involvement in the music industry but _no one_ played with the same ease and serenity as Kenma was doing right now. Kenma was so engrossed in his music that he hadn’t even noticed Kuroo was also in the theater watching him.

And just as Kenma was nearing the end of the piece, the soft trill of his violin struck something deep in Kuroo’s chest.

It was as if Cupid was smashing a guitar on his heart like Peter Townshend from The Who because at that _very moment_ , as Kenma approached the final crescendo of his movement from Mahler, Kuroo fell in love.

Kuroo Tetsurou had fallen madly, deeply in love with Kozume Kenma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kenma's cat names are Johann Sebastian Bach, Robert Schumann, Franz Joseph Haydn, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart while kuroo's are Elvis Presley, Jimi Hendrix, Ozzy Osborne, and Janis Joplin. and the who's peter townshend was the guy who popularized the act of smashing guitars, so yeah. the more you know~
> 
> am i the only one in love with the idea of kenma being nicknamed heartbreak by kuroo? sorry that was a total self-service moment for me. 
> 
> the next update will be sketchy?? i'm getting to be more busier lately especially this upcoming week. but heyyy, leave me comments/kudos, i love hearing what you guys have to say! and if you want, come visit me at my tumblr, tsuyuchii and tell me what you think/suggestions/headcanons there.


	4. Doses and Mimosas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from "Doses and Mimosas" by Cherub. 
> 
> check it, some super cool fanart for this fic over [here](http://eraserz.tumblr.com/post/94221874773/pretty-face-and-electric-soul-by-izanamii). i'm totally flattered by any and all fanart, so if you do feel so inclined as to make some, _send it my way and i'll love you forever_.

Kuroo has fallen in love with Kenma. This is a fact, as evidenced by the way Kuroo’s heart feels like it's overflowing with affection and warm emotions and how he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Kenma as he plays violin. 

But things aren’t as simple as that.

Kuroo quickly realizes that the person that he has fallen in love with is Kenma the musician. The person who’s up on that stage right now, playing violin to his heart’s content. The Kenma who is so totally at one with the music that he plays as though he’s the only person in the whole world. Kenma the musician creates music made purely for his own pleasure and enjoyment, and Kuroo almost feels like he’s an intruder.

He’s seen a side of Kenma that no one knows about.

And Kuroo’s utterly entranced. 

Yet all good things must come to an end. When Kenma reaches the end of his movement, the illusion snaps. Kenma opens his eyes and sees Kuroo standing before him and his eyes go wide like a deer caught in the headlights. 

Kuroo claps because that’s the proper thing to do after witnessing such a performance.

“Bravo, heartbreak, bravo. That was quite a show.” Kenma’s face blooms with red at Kuroo’s praise. God Kenma thought he’d gotten a hand of this blushing shit, but what the fuck is Kuroo doing here of all places. A million thoughts are running through Kenma’s mind at the moment. But he manages to piece together a semi-coherent response to the grinning fool standing below the stage. 

“I..when did you...w-why..what are you doing here??” Well it sounded a lot more smooth in his mind.

Kuroo shrugs.

“Came to visit my cats.” he replies honestly. As if on cue, Haydn comes up to Kuroo and starts rubbing herself against Kuroo’s leg. Kuroo grins and gets down to pet the black and white cat. “Hey there, Joplin. Long time no see.” 

Kenma twitches. 

What the hell’s going on??

“Why is it that nothing’s been the same since I met you?” Kenma asks bluntly, not realizing that the wording of his (rhetorical) question causes Kuroo’s heart to skip a bit.

Again Kuroo simply shrugs. He takes a few steps back and plops down into one of the audience’s seats behind him. Haydn/Joplin jumps up and takes her place in Kuroo’s lap.

“Cop a squat, heartbreak. I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about.”

* * *

Kozume Kenma is a creature of habit. He enjoys living a quiet life and has a handful of things he likes (video games, the internet, violin) and a whole lot of things he dislikes (social interaction, math tests, brussel sprouts).

But the being known as Kuroo Tetsurou is really starting to become an emcumbrance in the bland uniformity of Kenma’s life. He’s a total wild card. A joker that appears randomly in each hand Kenma’s been dealt who throws everything out of order. First at Ishibashi. Then at the concert. Now here at the theater, the one place that Kenma thought he had to himself.

Maybe Kenma could have endured all the visits and unabashed flirting from Kuroo at his work every other day. But now he’s got to find out that the mysterious KT that Kenma had looked up to all these years was also the same arrogant weirdo that had visually assaulted him (at least that’s what Kenma’s been calling it in his mind) after the concert then went on to creep on Kenma at his workplace.

The universe really knows how to fuck with him.

Honestly, Kenma’s frustrated and a little upset. He had always hoped to one day meet KT by some grace of God and talk to them about music, dreams, anything really. Admittedly, Kenma might have built the fantasy up in his mind to unrealistic heights, but damn. KT is Kuroo Tetsurou. The smart-talking, clever jerk who keeps shooting Kenma little grins and smirks as he talks and explains how he found the theater, “his” cats, and ultimately the music notebook he’d crammed all his ideas and songs into. 

“Gotta admit, it’s a bit embarrassing that you found that old thing.” Kuroo says, scratching the back of his neck. It really is kind of embarrassing, I mean, Kuroo wrote a lot of personal things in that notebook, never once thinking that someone would find it. 

“How much of it did you read?” he inquires. 

Kenma gives a small shrug.

“Uhh...a little. Some of it..” he looks to the side. “...All of it.”

Kuroo laughs a bit. 

“Damn heartbreak. Did any of it pique your fancy?” Again all Kenma gives in response is a little unenthusiastic shrug.

“Not really..” That’s a lie, but Kenma doesn’t care. He’d really rather not talk about how much he had idolized Kuroo under the guise of KT. 

“Mm, sorry bout that then.” Kuroo leans back into his chair, his arms folded back to support his head. The gray beanie Kuroo always wears out slips back again, letting more of his unruly black hair spill forth. 

“Hey Kenma, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” 

Kenma doesn’t care as long as it’s not a personal question really.

“Where’d you learn to play like that?” Kuroo asks.

Dammit Kuroo.

Kenma is silent for a bit before sighing and answering.

“I’ve taken lessons for a few years now...but I dunno. I’ve always just liked to play the violin.” 

“Ahh, I see.” 

“Mm.” Kenma fiddles with the strings of his white hoodie. 

“You’re amazing though.” Kuroo says out of the blue. 

Kenma blinks. 

As if sensing Kenma’s bewilderment, Kuroo turns towards the younger boy and flashes him a genuine smile, not one of his Kuroo Tetsurou shit grins. 

Kenma would be lying if he said his cheeks didn’t suddenly feel a bit warm.

“Thanks..”

“I’m being serious though. You’re like, the best violinist i’ve ever seen. And this is coming from someone who’s done _time_ in the music business. _No one_ can play like you.” 

Kenma’s mind is swimming with thoughts again. He’s really not used to hearing anyone besides his instructor praise his playing and he’s especially not used to playing in front of people. If it wasn’t obvious already, Kenma suffers from a crippling case of stage fright. Just thinking about the fact that someone was watching him play his violin makes Kenma’s stomach knot up with anxiety. 

The pudding-haired boy takes a few breaths to calm himself before responding. 

“Thank you...but...I don’t really play for anyone..” he bites his lip. “I’m not exactly..comfortable..” he adds. Kuroo blinks but nods with understanding.

“Oh I gotcha. Nerves are a tough thing to get over, lemme tell ya. But it’s not impossible.” 

“Okay..” It’s a lot more than just a case of nerves but again, Kenma would really rather not get into this conversation topic with Kuroo. Or anyone for that matter. 

Kuroo seems to pick up on Kenma’s unwillingness to continue the discussion so he switches gears. He asks Kenma about how his cats were over the years and whether Kenma took good care of them or not. This sparks an amusing conversation and a little debate over their names, Kuroo arguing that nothing could beat being named after history’s greatest rockers while Kenma suggested the honor of carrying some of the world’s most accomplished composers would surely supercede the former. 

The two talk, laugh, and argue for a while as their cats pool around their feet to nap, content that their “parents” are finally together.

“Aww, look our children are asleep.” Kuroo cooes, leaning over to scratch at the scruff of Ozzy/Bach’s neck. Kenma’s brows knit together. 

“ _Our_ children?”

“Yup. Though I might have found them first, I’ll admit you became their second parent after I left. Thanks for looking after the kids, heartbreak~” 

Kenma rolls his eyes before checking the time on his phone. 

Holy shit it’s almost half past six. 

Kenma had only planned to stay at the theater until 3PM especially since today was the weekly family dinner at his house. Kenma frowns and shoves his phone back in his pocket and gets up. 

“I didn’t realize how late it is, I really have to go.” he says. Kuroo stands up as well and steps around the cats, checking his watch.

“Yeah, you’re right. Damn time flies when you’re having fun.” Kenma moves past him to get back on the stage and pack up his violin. Kuroo notices the care Kenma moves with as he secures his violin back in his case and gathers the rest of his sheet music. The corner of his lips turn upward. 

“Hey, let’s head back to the station together. We’re riding the same train back anyway.” he says. Kenma agrees to Kuroo’s suggestion, just because he doesn’t have time to stick back and wait for the next train.

* * *

“Akaashi! Akaashi!” Bokuto chirps, trying to grab the bodyguard’s attention. 

Akaashi’s eyes glance from his tablet to the silver-haired drummer he’s been tasked with protecting. He had been going over the security details for the Trash King’s next public appearance, but Bokuto was determined to distract him from that task.

He sighs before responding to his eccentric charge. 

“What Bokuto?” 

“Let’s arm wrestle!” 

Akaashi stares at him for a bit.

“Why?” he asks.

“Why not?” Bokuto childishly retorts. 

Akaashi sighs. 

Oh hell, Bokuto probably wouldn’t stop bugging him until he agreed anyway. Akaashi was just cutting costs by agreeing now.

Bokuto clears a space on the coffee table for them and the two sit down facing each other before clasping hands. Akaashi is still looking at Bokuto with the same indifferent stare but Bokuto is positively bubbling with excitement. Akaashi’s really not sure why though.

He knows that Bokuto knows how totally _outmatched_ he is against Akaashi. A man who has twice the muscle density of people twice his size and knows thirty-four different ways to incapacitate a person. Bokuto can’t honestly think he stands a chance in beating Akaashi in any strength competition just because he’s physically bigger than Akaashi. 

“Okay. Three...two...one...go!” Bokuto counts down before they start. The owl boy lasts about a good twenty seconds before Akaashi forces his arm down in a swift motion.

“I win.” he says simply.

“Let’s go again!” Bokuto demands, Akaashi sighs but doesn’t object.

Again the two join hands and again the match ends with the same results. And again, Bokuto demands for a rematch, then another, and another.

They do a total of seven matches before Akaashi stands his ground and flat out rejects the next rematch.

“No. We’re not arm-wrestling again.” Bokuto pouts and Akaashi frowns at him before asking, “Why do you even want to keep challenging me at this? You’re not gonna win.”

Bokuto laughs, he never gets tired of how frank Akaashi is. It’s really refreshing. Most people just tell Bokuto what he wants to hear, especially given his rock star status but not Akaashi. There’s no sugarcoating things with him. He always tells Bokuto exactly what he needs to hear.

“Yeah, I know. I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand though.” Bokuto answers truthfully. 

Bokuto catches the split second where Akaashi’s eyes widen ever so slightly, before the latter composes himself again, being ever the infallible bodyguard. But while Akaashi’s body language and expression might not betray him, his voice does.

“W-Well then. I still have work to do, so I’ve got to go now.” Akaashi says, standing up and walking towards the exit. “Bye Bokuto.” 

“Aw, Akaashi! Don’t go! My hand wasn’t even sweaty or anything! Come back!” Bokuto calls out after the man, getting up and following him which causes Akaashi to walk away even faster.

* * *

God the metro was really busy during this time of the day. 

Kenma and Kuroo had raced to the train station and boarded at the last minute. The cart had already been jam packed with people so with Kenma and Kuroo it was even more of a tight squeeze. Thus Kenma found himself pressed up close against Kuroo’s front. Not of his own volition of course! It was just really, really crowded in the cart.

The two actually didn’t say much to each other during the ride after Kuroo got a few cheeky remarks about how close they were getting. Now it was mostly just silence between the two as the train zoomed through the underground tunnels and overhead bridges.

Kuroo was standing somewhat in the middle of the cart. He was holding one of the handles dangling from the ceiling of the cart for support as Kenma was squished up to his front. Kenma was lucky that Kuroo couldn’t see how red his face was since it was pretty much hidden in Kuroo’s shirt. 

Oh god, Kenma could feel Kuroo’s chest so easily right now. The muscle tone, firmness, and those abs. _Wow_ , okay.

Kenma’s not sure if he’s in heaven or hell right now.

Maybe both?

The cart runs over some kind of debris and the whole thing shakes a bit, the people inside all jerk forward suddenly. A few girls shriek with surprise. 

But before Kenma can even notice anything, Kuroo’s got his free arm wrapped around his waist, securing Kenma in place. Kuroo will be damned if he lets anything pull Kenma away from him right now. 

In this little metro cart, Kuroo’s pretty sure he’s got his own little slice of heaven. Something just feels so right about having Kenma pressed up against him like this. He almost wants to embrace the smaller boy and just hug him for the rest of the ride, but that might be pushing Kuroo’s luck a bit. This is good enough for now.

Kenma doesn’t really know what to say. Or do. 

He’s just kind of standing there, one hand holding onto the handle of his violin case and the other in a fist against Kuroo’s front (because having his hand flat against Kuroo’s chest would just be a really awkward thing to do). 

“Comfortable?” Kuroo inquires after some silence. They’ve been in the same position for about five minutes now and Kuroo still hasn’t moved his arm from Kenma’s waist. 

“I guess..” Kenma mutters. 

He doesn’t feel that great. (It’s a lot of embarrassment really)

But it doesn’t feel bad either. 

Kenma doesn’t dare say he feels content though.

Least not out loud.

* * *

Oikawa had seen Bokuto’s little game with Akaashi earlier. He was impressed to be honest. Oikawa hadn’t thought that Mr. Owlshit-for-Brains could come up with anything that cute to be honest, and then to actually be successful in flustering his bodyguard crush. Hmph. Even fools struck gold sometimes, he supposed. 

But anyways Oikawa had an even cuter gesture planned to top Bokuto. And the recipient of his efforts was much more deserving (at least in Oikawa’s mind). 

Iwa-chan always complained about how stressed he was nowadays. Back when they were kids, he and Oikawa would always play board games and pass the time eating mochi that Iwaizumi’s grandmother had made for them from scratch. So OIkawa took it upon himself to plan a little day of fun and relaxation for the two of them. Oikawa had bought a few of the old board games from Amazon and he’d also purchased some mochi from a really nice bakery downtown. It’d be just like old times, and the two of them of them would have lots of fun.

At least that was until Iwaizumi had shut Oikawa down with a quick text saying he wouldn’t be back at the hotel suite till later that night so Oikawa would have to “bother someone else” for now. 

Well okay. Forget Iwaizumi that freaking jerk and his stupid work or whatever. God, Oikawa was fucking irritated now. All his plans had gone to waste and Iwa-chan didn’t even give shit.

Whatever.

Oikawa rode the elevator down to the lobby with the board games and the box of mochi, planning to go out to the dumpster around the back and chuck all that shit away. He was fuming angry. And hurt. Mostly angry.

“Oikawa, where are you going?” a voice asked. Oikawa froze and spun around, expecting to see Iwaizumi, but nope it was just the manager of the hotel, Ushijima. Oikawa fixed the man with a cold stare.

“I’m going to throw some shit away. What’s it to you?” he asked rudely, unintentionally taking some of his frustration out on Ushijima. Oikawa didn’t really care at the moment though. He was just pissed and frustrated.

Ushijima, however, was able to sense this.

“That seems like a waste.” he replied calmly. Ushijima pointed at the bakery box in Oikawa’s hands. “What’s that?” 

Oikawa glanced at the box and pursed his lips.

“Mochi.”

“And the other boxes?” Oikawa shuffled his feet a bit. 

“They’re board games. Western ones. You probably wouldn’t know them..” he replied. 

“I speak fluent English. Why don’t you show me how to play them though?” Ushijima suggested. Oikawa blinked. This was kinda weird. Even Oikawa had to admit that he was usually kind of a jerk to Ushijima. Oikawa didn’t exactly understand why he acted how he did towards the manager either (Iwa-chan had mentioned something about a “lack of maturity”). So why was Ushijima being so nice to him right now? Maybe it did stem back to that maturity thing Iwaizumi had talked about.

Regardless Oikawa took Ushijima up on his offer.

* * *

Since the metro cart had been so jam-packed full of people, Kenma should have been prepared for the rush of people that’d come his way once the doors opened for everyone to leave. But he was not. 

The sudden surge of bodies heading his way took Kenma by surprise and he about almost got bowled over by all the people. But again, Kuroo was there to grab Kenma and help him stay put. Kuroo’s hand shot past all the people and grabbed Kenma’s wrist and hoisted the latter up before he fell over. 

“Uppsy-daisy, heartbreak.” he said with a cheery smile. Kenma ignored his comment and thanked him for his help. 

The two got off the metro and left the underground station. They were finally back in Tokyo, but Kenma was still a long ways from home. He definitely wouldn’t make it in time for dinner at 7PM with his parents. And then they’d be mad and disappointed with him again.

Kenma felt the anxiety well up his stomach again. Kuroo noticed something was off with Kenma and poked his forehead to get the younger boy’s attention.

“What’s up? You got a curfew or something?” he asked.

Kenma frowned and shook his head.

“Not really. I just need to be home by seven for a family thing.” Kuroo nodded. An idea was forming in his mind.

“That so? Well I think I can help you there. Follow me.” he said, taking Kenma’s hand to pull the boy along as they walked in the direction of the nearest parking garage.

* * *

“You’re kidding.” Kenma deadpanned.

“Nope. Ain’t she a beaut though?” Kuroo sighed wistfully, leaning over and hugging his black motorcycle. Kenma frowned at the man.

Kuroo had dragged him four blocks away to this parking garage where he had left his motorcycle, a black Ducati Monster 1200. Aside from the (obnoxious) Trash Kings logo sticker on the side, the bike appeared to be brand new. Kuroo finished expressing his undying love for his bike and handed Kenma a yellow helmet, it was an odd thing with built-in cat ears and a graffiti S on the top front. 

“It’s the only spare helmet I’ve got, sorry.” Kuroo grinned, putting on his own black helmet.

Kenma stared at the helmet in his hands then at the man in front of him. 

It dawned on Kenma that right now he was being offered a ride on a fancy motorcycle by a world-famous rockstar. Most people would die to be in his shoes right now. 

But Kenma really didn’t care for any of that, he just really needed to get home.

So he swallowed his pride and got on the back of the motorcycle, wrapping his arms around Kuroo’s waist this time and leaning in close as Kuroo started up the bike and pulled out of the parking garage.

* * *

Oikawa laughed as he tried to guess what the card was on his headband. Ushijima chuckled as the younger man whined at him to give him more clues. The two were currently sitting in one of the sofas in the Shiratorizawa’s lobby. A box half full of mochi sat on the coffee table before them as they played the second board game Oikawa had bought. The first had been Chutes and Ladders, a simple game but now they were playing Hedbanz, a guessing game that involved each player wearing a plastic headband with a card attached to it. The players had to guess what was on their card through the help of some ambiguous clues from the other party. Currently it was Oikawa’s turn to guess his card.

Ushijima’s card was “Pigeon” while Oikawa’s was “Puppy”.

“You’re small.” Ushijima offered, taking a bite of mochi.

“Am I a frog?” Oikawa asked but Ushijima shook his head. “Ugh, Ushijima you have to give me more descriptive clues!” he whined.

“Like what?” 

“I dunno! Just describe me!” Oikawa pouted and finished off another mochi.

“Well alright.” Ushijima stared at OIkawa for a bit before saying, “You’re adorable.”

OIkawa almost choked on his mochi. 

“W-What?”

“I said, you’re adorable.” he repeated. Oikawa coughed and looked to the side.

“Um, go on.” 

“Hmm, you’re very loyal. And loving.” he added. Oikawa blushed a teensy bit. “You’re also very furry and you like to play fetch.” 

“Am I...a puppy?” Oikawa asked hesitantly. Ushijima nodded. “Woohoo! You’re not as big of a stick in the mud as I thought, Ushijima!” Oikawa said incredulously.

“Hmph.”

* * *

Kuroo drives fast. Very fucking fast.

Kenma didn’t know what the speed limit was on this highway but he was pretty sure that Kuroo was way over it. But Kenma didn’t have the luxury of reprimanding Kuroo right now, he needed to be home in about fifteen minutes and if that meant barrelling down a highway on a motorcycle that was probably doing 144 kilometers per hour so be it.

Kenma simply held on to Kuroo even tighter. 

The evening air was starting to turn chilly, but surprisingly Kenma didn’t feel that cold. He was wearing a hoodie, but Kuroo seemed to emanate warmth. With Kenma’s chest pressed against Kuroo’s back, his whole front felt pleasantly warm. Kenma wondered if Kuroo could feet how hard his heart was pounding though. This kind of daredevil activity was foreign to Kenma and his heart was beating like a drum. 

Again, Kenma is kind of thankful for the helmet he’s wearing. No one can see his flushed face and his dazed, but peaceful expression.

* * *

Kuroo’s going wayyy over the speed limit and he knows it. 

Of course he knows that Kenma needs to be home soon so that’s partially the reason why he’s going so damn fast. But an even bigger reason is that the faster Kuroo goes, the tighter Kenma holds on to him. And feeling Kenma’s fingers press up against his sides is very nice. 

Also the way Kenma’s little rabbit heart thumps against his back is very cute. 

It almost matches Kuroo’s heart in terms of how fast it’s beating right now.

* * *

They pull up to Kenma’s house thirteen minutes later and Kenma gets off Kuroo’s bike. His legs feel like absolute jello after that ride, and in the back of his mind Kenma notes how cold it is without Kuroo’s additional body heat. Kenma takes off the yellow helmet and hands it back to Kuroo. 

“Thanks for the ride.” he says, smiling a little genuine smile of his own toward Kuroo. And this time it’s Kuroo’s turn to blush. 

“Don’t mention it, heartbreak.” Kuroo grins. “Though if you even wanna a take another spin sometime, just lemme know.” Kuroo winks at him real quick.

Kenma huffs, but he waves as Kuroo starts up his motorcycle again and drives away off into the night. 

And just like that, all the fun and fancy of the day comes to a close. Kenma walks up the driveway to his home and taps in the security code to get into the Kozume house. 

The familiar dread and anxiety starts to work their way into Kenma’s system which is quickly being drained of all the excitement and adrenaline from earlier. Kenma places his things in the foyer and walks down the hall to the dining room where his parents sit at the table with a full course dinner spread before them. 

Kozume Izuru sits at the helm of the table, reading a foreign medical journal. His square black glasses are perched at the bridge of his nose and his lips move silently as he reads. Kozume Rika sits to his left. She’s flipping through the contents of a manila folder thick with papers and forms from various pharmacies. Her long black hair is pull back into a tight bun and she’s wearing her customary black pearl jewelry.

Kenma’s dad notices him first and he puts his medical journal aside.

“Kenma. You’re late.” he says tersely. “Take a seat.” 

“Sorry.” Kenma says softly, sitting in the open chair to his father’s right. His mother tsk’s and places her folder off to the side as well.

“Kenma, I thought I told you that we’re having these family dinners once a week. You know how hard it is for your father and I to find time in both our schedules for this.” 

Kenma swallows and shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Having both his parents staring at him like this is almost too much to bear.

“Sorry.” he repeats even quieter.

“Enough. Let’s just eat. We’ve waited long enough, the food’s probably cold by now anyway.” Kenma’s father interjects. 

Kenma just does as told, quietly and without complaints. 

If it’s anyone’s attention he wished he could avoid, it would be his own parents above all else.

* * *

Truth be told, Iwaizumi felt kind of bad for how he had responded to Oikawa’s texts earlier that day. The manager had gotten off to a rough start in the morning with the lack of coffee and then the traffic and almost getting a ticket on the way to pick up some leftover documents at the previous concert venue. It sounded like Oikawa had been planning some kind of surprise for him once he got back to the hotel, but at the time Iwaizumi was in no mood to do anything and he’d lashed out at Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi knew he was in the wrong. Especially because he often lectured his best friend for taking his frustrations out on other people himself. Iwaizumi knew he had to apologize and find some way to make it up to him. No one likes a hypocrite.

So he’d rented out a few of Oikawa’s favorite movies, some British flicks he’d watched when he was a kid back in England and bought some Swedish Fish, Oikawa’s favorite movie candy. The two of them could have a good old-fashioned movie night and hopefully it’d make up for how much of a jerk Iwaizumi had been earlier.

Yep it was pretty much a full-proof plan.

Except Iwaizumi hadn’t expected his movie buddy to have been hijacked by a one, Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

The first thing Iwaizumi sees upon entering the Shiratorizawa Hotel lobby is Oikawa and the hotel’s manager, Ushijima laughing and bonding over some childish board games and mochi by the fire place. 

What the fuck?

Didn’t Oikawa hate Ushijima? 

He had sure enjoyed tormenting the hotel manager in the past. What the hell had happened while Iwaizumi was gone? Why were the two of them so buddy-buddy all of the sudden?

Iwaizumi watched as Oikawa’s face lit up with a pretty smile at something Ushijima said. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy that OIkawa’s smile hadn’t been directed at him instead.

* * *

When Kuroo finally got back to the hotel it was quite late and everyone had retired back up to the suite. Kuroo entered the place feeling like a million bucks, his heart was still a tangle of lovey-dovey emotions and feelings (all of which were directed towards a certain pudding-hair violinist) and he had the dopiest smile on his face. 

As Kuroo walked through the suite and greeted his bandmates and staff, he noticed that everyone seemed to either be in an upbeat and jolly mood like him or they were all quiet and sour. He kind of wondered what had happened with everyone, but all Kuroo really cared about right now was Kenma so that was that. 

“Haven’t seen that look on your face in a while.” Tsukishima observed as Kuroo hopped onto the blond’s bed. 

Kuroo snickered.

“You mean you haven’t seen it since it was last directed at you?” he offered slyly.

“Same difference.” Tsukishima replied, texting out some notes on his phone for new lyric ideas. Kuroo rolled his way over and placed his head on Tsukishima’s lap before giving the latter a silly smile.

“Tsukki, I’m in love.” 

“Well this is a first.” Tsukishima says sarcastically.

“Don’t be a little smart ass. This time it’s real.” 

“You wound me, Kuroo.” he retorts in deadpan. 

But Tsukishima also pauses in his texting, thinking a bit. 

“Love’s all about perspective, remember that this time, Kuroo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the plot thickenssss. kenma has some major issues with his parents and ye _aHHhh_ kurotsukki. i wonder what happened between tsukki and kuroo??? 144 km per hour is roughly 90 mph. and yes that helmet kenma is wearing is the same as celty's from durarara.
> 
> i want your opinion though, **ushioi or iwaoi**? i'm really on the fence about this one so please **comment** down below and tell me which one you prefer and why. B) 
> 
> and if you wanna talk to me, feel free to send me an ask at my tumblr, [tsuyuchii](http://tsuyuchii.tumblr.com/). i'm actually just a loser dork i swear <3
> 
> i'll probably be gone working on a bokuro fic for a certain somebody real soon so look out for that i guess hahaha. rip me for loving the unknown ships.


	5. Video Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL HELLO THERE. i'm not dead guy, really and i haven't abandoned this story. i've just been at college for the past month and jesus christ college is so real. so much fun, so much work but it's great. but terribly time consuming. but thank you all for staying with me and continuing to send me asks, make fanart, talk to me, and just leave commets/kudos/read my story in general. you the real mvp.
> 
> two gorgeous pieces of fanart found here [here](http://tsuyuchii.tumblr.com/post/96046261121/bloody-queen-ll-based-on-a-certain-part-of) and [here](http://tsuyuchii.tumblr.com/post/97901506441/tsukkiss-hey-hey-hey-guys-you-know-what-you). the latter is particularly special because it was made by someone you guys probably know: shieru! the author of the laws of gravity don't apply to you, baby aka the other major kuroken multichap fic on ao3. we're actually really good friends and we talk all the time ahahah. oh and we're married on tumblr B) 
> 
> so thanks to those two awesome people for their art! <3 this chapter's title comes from video games by lana del rey, however the version i'm actually referencing in the chapter is by the young professionals.
> 
> also yes i read every comment, i can see that iwaoi is the overwhelming favorite but still some people want ushioi or they want poly. i already had an idea of what i was gonna do anyway but don't worry, iwaoi will be there. and there will be ushioi because drama and why not. just read and enjoy, my friends.

Kageyama stared hard at his iPhone’s shiny screen. The cool new phone was a perk of working for Oikawa, if anything just so Kageyama could respond to any of Oikawa’s random requests at any time. Chai latte, lowfat yogurt, 1000 thread count silk sheets, you name it. Personally, Kageyama had been perfectly fine using his own (brick) cellphone but a couple weeks ago Oikawa had handed his assistant a shiny new iPhone 5S with only one contact in it. His own.

But now it contained two contacts.

Oikawa Tooru.

And Hinata Shouyou. 

The raven-haired assistant wasn’t even entirely sure of how Hinata’s number had gotten in there. Truth be told, after the concert Kageyama had misplaced his phone somewhere when he had gone to search for Oikawa’s fancy water. He’d been shitting himself because damn that phone was pretty much his lifeline to Oikawa. The guitarist always communicated via text so without that key piece of technology, Kageyama’s job was in jeopardy.

That’s when Hinata Shouyou showed up in Kageyama’s life. 

In the midst of Kageyama’s totally controlled inner panic as he searched for his phone, Hinata suddenly came over asking if it was Kageyama who had dropped his phone near the guardrail. 

Kageyama had to blink twice to make sure Hinata hadn’t been some kind of a guardian angel. 

He was obviously very grateful that Hinata had gotten his phone back to him and quite possibly saved his job but after that it seemed to go..downhill. Because, well…

Hinata doesn’t really shut the fuck up. 

The boy talked Kageyama’s ear off about the most random shit. The concert, his schoolwork, skateboarding, and most importantly his best friend, Kenma, who had been lost at the time. Hinata had been looking all over the place for him and he was convinced that Kenma had been taken backstage by a guy with a scary (but really bored) looking face. 

To be fair, Akaashi’s lack of expression could be pretty damn unsettling at times. 

Anyways after much hassling from Hinata, Kageyama agreed to show him his way backstage so that he could look for his friend. Kageyama supposed that as they were walking and talking (really it was just Hinata talking and Kageyama grunting every now and then to show he was putting in at least the bare minimum amount of attention to what he was saying) Hinata had gotten into Kageyama’s phone and input his number for whatever reason. 

Therefore Kageyama was now partaking in something he absolutely hated. 

Friendly conversation. 

And not just regular friendly conversation, the conversation was being done over text. 

_Fucking_ **hell**.

Kageyama’s not the most social person okay. He’s got a lot of skills and abilities like how he can make the perfect french toast or how he can press play right when the commercials are done fast-forwarding, but holding a normal, friendly conversation with another human being is not one of them. 

Call him socially-inept or stunted, Kageyama doesn’t particularly care. (Anyone working as Oikawa’s assistant is allowed to have their flaws) But it doesn’t change the fact that Kageyama is probably, if not definitely, the world’s shittiest texter. 

**To: Hinata  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 12:03 PM**

**Ha haha. That is very kool!!**

Kageyama squinted at the screen. 

Extraneous laughter, check. Popularized misspelling that indicts “coolness” factor, check. Unnecessary exclamation marks, double check.

Kageyama pressed send.

You know what, scratch that. Kageyama’s fucking GREAT at texting. He knows what’s up. 

…

Over in the other side of the room sits Oikawa and Bokuto at the table. The two were supposed to be working on a set list for a future show but they just couldn’t help but notice all the weird faces Kageyama was making at his phone. All of them were kind of weird and constipated looking really. 

“The fuck’s wrong with your assistant?” Bokuto asked blandly. Oikawa looked really offended and frowns at the drummer. 

“The fuck’s wrong with your hair?” he retorted.

* * *

Bokuto and Kuroo were both lounging in the living room of their hotel suite. Band practice had been delayed today so that Oikawa and Lev could go out and buy some new strings and straps for their guitar and bass respectively. Kuroo and Bokuto had been immersed in a serious game of Dead Space 3 at the time so they had no qualms with a later practice but now Kuroo had kind of wished he’d gone with the other two. It could’ve been a good opportunity to swing by Ishibashi and visit Kenma. He hadn’t gotten a chance to see him again since dropping the precious pudding head off at his house.

Kuroo felt his heart fill with a swirl of warm emotions. Oh god that day had been so perfect from start to finish. Saying goodbye really fucking sucked. Kuroo decided that next time he’d definitely get a goodbye kiss in at least. 

Bokuto glanced over at his best friend. Kuroo’s got that shitty look on his face, the one that just reads “holy shit, I’ve got it _bad_ ’. Bokuto knows this because it’s the same look that comes on his face when he thinks about Akaashi Keiji. 

“Bro.” Bokuto’s eponymous brospeak directed at Kuroo of course, who just grunts in response. “What’s got _your_ dick all hard?” 

Kuroo rolled his eyes, not the least bit flustered by Bokuto’s brash way of inquiring his relationship status. They’ve been friends for years now. Any trace of awkwardness or hesitation was quickly killed off the day Bokuto asked Kuroo to pick him up some condoms and Kuroo didn’t even ask questions cause he already knew Bokuto’s favorite brand and size by heart. 

“I don’t ask about you and Akaashi, why are you butting your owl head in my business?” Kuroo retorted cheekily. It’s true he doesn’t ask but it’s because Bokuto just talks about it without prompt. 

Bokuto feigned insult and pointed his index finger up. 

“Um, ‘scuse you. Mine and Akaashi’s relationship is pure and wholesome and totally a work in progress unlike whatever or whoever’s been keeping you out 24/7.” Kuroo cocked a brow but Bokuto went on. “Yeah, I’ve noticed you’ve been making yourself hella scarce at the suite. So spill, man. Whatcha been up to?” 

The dark-haired man simply chuckled. There was really nothing that he could keep from his best friend. Bokuto moved over and flopped on down next to Kuroo, propping his chin up with his hands to look all enthused and cute though to the latter it was just kinda weird. 

“Nothing much, dude. Just met a person and they’re really cool. I like ‘em alot.” he said cooly, vastly downplaying how much he actually into Kenma. Bokuto seemed to pick up on this too.

“On a scale of one to Akaashi, how hot are they?” 

“Irrelevant. I don’t acknowledge our babysitter as the apex of the hotness spectrum.” 

Bokuto nearly tackled Kuroo when he said that.

“You dare speak blasphemy of the hot spicy Akaashi?” Bokuto asked in the utmost grave tone of voice. Kuroo couldn’t help but laugh though he did raise his hands up in peace.

“Chill, man. All I’m saying is different strokes for different folks.” His silver-haired best friend seemed to accept that response and got off Kuroo.

“Mmk. Fair enough, bro. Happy for you too, it’s been a longass time since you’ve shown interest in anyone other than our moody lyricist.” Kuroo rolled his eyes when Bokuto brought up his old relationship with Tsukishima. “When do I get to meet ‘em though??” 

Kuroo shrugged.

“Iunno. His name’s Kenma and he works at that music store. Ishibashi.” Bokuto raised his brows to which Kuroo followed up with, “What?”

“Isn’t that the place Lev and Oikawa are going right now?” 

It took a few moments for Kuroo to realize what he’d done.

“Oh my god.” he utters.

He let Lev and Oikawa, of ALL PEOPLE, go unsupervised to the place of employment of his newfound love. Kenma will fucking hate him for this. He’ll never wanna talk to Kuroo ever again once he meets those two. Holy shit, Lev and Oikawa are gonna be so weird and stupid and cause so much shit for Kenma. Fuck, fuck, fuckkk. 

Bokuto reachds over and patted his best friend on the back. 

“Be strong, Kenma. Be strong for Kuroo.” he said.

* * *

This is my hell. This is my own personal hell. 

Kenma’s eyes are empty as they stare off into the distance while two rowdy customers make a ruckus in the music store. 

The day had begun normal enough. The same crowd came in and bought a few instruments, handbooks, miscellaneous things. It’d seemed like Kenma would have an uneventful shift at work, just how he liked them. But then later in the afternoon two new customers strolled in. Kenma had sensed the same strange, but confident energy coming from these guys as Kuroo and his one friend the first time the two had met. 

But for any amount that Kuroo was obnoxious and annoying. These two were ten times worse.

“Oh my god, Kenma is it? You NEED to do something about your hair. Your roots are so so sooo bad!!” Oikawa gasped, leaning over the glass counter to touch Kenma’s hair. Kenma flinched and resisted hissing at the brunette. 

“Man, this Fender is a beauty.” Lev said, picking up the bass guitar and strumming the six strings slowly. “Fretless too, just how I like ‘em.” Kenma frowned a bit. It really wasn’t customary for people to remove the guitars from their stands, especially the expensive ones. 

“Sir, are you going to buy that?” Kenma asked.

Lev blinked and patted the back pocket of his jeans.

“Dude! I left my wallet at the suite! Oikawa spot me nine hundred!” 

“What the fuck?? No! That’s your own fault, dumbass!” Oikawa barked before turning his attention back to Kenma. “Anyways, as I was saying. Kenma, you’ve totally got a cute vibe but those roots are kinda ratchet. Here lemme refer you to a friend of mine. She does great hair!”  
Oikawa took Kenma’s hand and began writing on it with the black gel pen he always kept on his for emergency autographs. Kenma squirmed.

“Uhh, that’s r-really not necessary..” 

“Nonsense! She’s fabulous, there’s no job she can’t handle. Granted, she did just get out of prison. Oh, but she did hair too while she was doing time there. She’s got great experience.” 

“I bet..” 

“Dude I need all these bass guitars look at them, they’re so shiny and nice and begging to be played by me. Gimme your wallet, Oikawa!”

“Fuck off!” 

Kenma sighed quietly and watched the clock. 

He’d definitely rather it be Kuroo here instead of these two. Quite possibly, Kenma would prefer Kuroo over any other customer. But he wasn’t about to admit that outloud.

Like, ever.

* * *

“What the hell are you doing?” Oikawa asked. He’d been walking around in the suite checking his twitter feed and reporting the weirdos who’d subtweet him but then Oikawa had run across Kageyama doing something weird in the bathroom.

And, no.

It wasn’t _that_ kind of weird shit, you nasties.

Kageyama was trying to dress himself.

Honestly Oikawa’s first reaction had been to stifle the fit of laughter that was bubbling up his system when he’d come across Kageyama trying to pair a yellow plaid shirt with orange shorts. Oh god, if it hadn’t been so hilarious, Oikawa’s eyes might have burned from the sheer ugly of that outfit.

“Why the hell are you trying to dress yourself right now?” Oikawa demanded when Kageyama hadn’t given him a response. The younger boy had simply frozen up like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa’s eyes widened as he put two and two together. The recent lack of attention, the nonstop texting, the awkward expressions on Kageyama’s face 24/7. 

He was going on a date.

Holy shit.

“Who is it? Do I know them? Are they good people? Do you need anything? Condoms, pocket knife, cologne, mace?” Oikawa asked, clasping Kagayama’s hands.

Oh god, his little Tobio was growing up. Everyone told him that this would happen, but Oikawa had never anticipated it’d be so soon. Was he even ready for an empty nest? Oh godddd.

“W-wait. It’s not even like that. I..I’m just meeting up with Hinata for some food..” Kageyama said every bit as awkwardly as he currently felt. “Uh..I just don’t really know what to wear..” 

Oikawa nodded then walked past his assistant to take a look at all the clothes Kageyama had laid on the marble countertop. The guitarist picked a few articles of clothing and handed them back to Kageyama.

“Mmk. Try those on. It should be a good look. Casual but still semi-put together. You wanna make a good impression right?” 

Kageyama nodded stiffly. 

“Thanks, mom.” he said automatically before tensing up and slapping his hand over his mouth. Shit, what the hell was that.

Oikawa felt the waterworks rising up again and shooed the younger boy away. 

“Go forth, my wayward son.”

* * *

An hour and a half later, Kageyama was finally ready for his not-a-date with Hinata and Oikawa still felt like an emotional mess. Iwaizumi had actually joined the two, called forward by Oikawa’s incessant and hysterical texts. He was less than amused to find that Oikawa hadn’t been freaking out about something actually important though. And not Kageyama’s shitty date.

“Ok. I have to go now.” Kageyama said, glancing at the time on his watch. The watch had been Iwaizumi’s suggestion. A man need to look like he had places to be and watches looked really cool. 

Oikawa nodded and held onto Iwaizumi’s arm as the two gave Kageyama an (unnecessary) walk to the door. Oikawa sniffed into the sleeve of Iwaizumi’s shirt, but the latter found it oddly difficult to frown at him when Oikawa was holding him so closely like that. Damn him. 

“Good luck, Tobio. Make smart choices!” Oikawa called out and waved as Kageyama walked down the hall, his face flush with embarrassment. 

Iwaizumi closed the door and sighed, shaking his arm a bit so Oikawa might let go. 

He did not.

Iwaizumi frowned a bit more, but he couldn’t say he was displeased.

“Kids grow up so fast.” Oikawa said dreamily.

“Tch. Our kids wouldn’t be as fucking awkward as Kageyama, I can promise you that.” Iwaizumi replied offhandedly, sitting down on the sofa with Oikawa. 

Oikawa suddenly perked up and grabbed his arm even tighter.

“You want kids?!” Oikawa practically squeaked. 

Iwaizumi did a quick intake of breath and stood up to leave.

“I’m not having this conversation. Bye.” 

“No! Come back! Iwa-channn!!”

* * *

**To: Kuroo**  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 5:43 PM  
your bandmates are insane.   
they make you seem almost decent.  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 5:45 PM 

**you wound me so, heartbreak 3**  
i apologize for their shittiness though.   
\---  
To: Kuroo  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 5:46 PM 

**it’s ok i guess**  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 5:48 PM 

**hey so are you busy around 9ish tonight?**  
\---  
To: Kuroo  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 5:51 PM 

**uh..no? i can’t go the theater though.**  
it’d be pretty late and i still   
have cram school tomorrow.  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 5:54 PM 

**no, no lol. two of the guys (bokuto & tsukishima)**  
and i will be on tv tonight.  
it’s that one popular talk show, y’know with   
the cute blond host on the hiQ channel?  
\---  
To: Kuroo  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 5:55 PM 

**yes i know of it**  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 5:56 PM 

**yea. she’s gonna interview us then we’ll do a show.**  
it’ll be pretty sweet.   
you should watch the show though. that’s what im getting at :P  
\---  
To: Kuroo  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 5:59 PM 

**um..sure. but why?**  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 6:05 PM 

**cause it’ll be good!**  
..plus i always perform better when   
i know someone important is watching.  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 6:05 PM 

**not that i don’t put 100% in all the tiem.**  
all my fans are important but youre like  
..super importsnt?  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 6:06 PM 

**if t hat makes sesne?**  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 6:06 PM 

**ugh ignore my shitty texting.**  
it happens when i type too fast lol..  
..also sorry for blowing up your phone rn.  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 6:07 PM 

**yeah im just..gonna stop now lol…**  
\---  
To: Kuroo   
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 6:08PM 

**wow i had trouble keeping up w/what you**  
were saying. but yeah i’ll keep the show in mind  
later when i’m playing zelda  
\---  
To: Kuroo   
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 6:10 PM 

**also im sure you’ll do fine as always.**  
you’re a great musician.  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 6:10 PM 

**:D**  
\---  
To: Kuroo   
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 6:12 PM 

**just kind of a shitty person.**  
but i’m sure you can work on that.  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 6:13 PM 

**D:**  
\---  
To: Kuroo   
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 6:14 PM 

**lol**

* * *

In the past few years there were few new television shows that captured the attention of the country as well as one show did. Originally pinned to have been a ratings flop with a no-name host from a recently-formed TV studio with only one well-known executive, no one, not even the host herself had expected the show to take off as well as it had. But looking at the ratings of the weekly airings, one show consistently dominated the rest.

Villager B. Hosted by Yachi Hitoka. 

Analysts, bloggers, and columnists will debate on what makes the show so popular and they’ll come up with a variety of reasons. The cute perky host, the candid commentary, the awesome fanbase, the list is seemingly endless. But the truth of the matter is this: the show is success because of the amount of work everyone puts in to it. 

Initially many people assumed that Yachi had simply been handed the position and she’d done nothing to earn the role that all her colleagues would have killed to have. It was those people that pissed Yachi off the most because no one actually knew the extent of work she had to do to even get her foot in the door when it came to the entertainment industry. 

See it’s no secret that the world of show business is a seedy place. If you’re not one of the movers and the shakers, you’re probably one of the go-getters, stuck kissing ass and paying your dues. And even then it’s not like anything’s guaranteed. No one quite knows desperation like an intern chained to a studio and working around the clock to make sure the people who were actually _paid_ to slave away had all their coffee and more often than not, cover their asses as well. 

That was basically Yachi Hitoka’s life for five years. 

She’d been a fresh face out of college in the States, eager to head back home to Japan to get involved with some big television studio in her home town. Of course she’d know that she’d spend most of her time as a lowly intern and Yachi had been more than welcome to work in order to earn her stripes. 

But nothing seemed to work out for her. Every internship she’d taken on had wound up being a dead end or she’d be shuffled off to some other group with little thanks or appreciation. Rinse and repeat. 

For five fucking years.

Course it wasn’t like Yachi had just committed herself to interning. She’d tried out other outlets of the entertainment field. She’d auditioned for parts, submitted drafts, scripts, and concepts to studios. But literally everything had been met with rejection, just wrapped up in different “consolatory” responses. 

“Sorry we’ve got a full team”

“You just don’t have the look we need”

“You’re too much of a fresh face”

“Do you think maybe you’re in the wrong industry?”

...Well. Not all of them had been consolatory. But all of those rejections, all of those missteps, and all of those failures had brought her to one place in particular.

Karasuno Studios

The studio was also relatively new as well at the time, recently formed at the helm by Sawamura Daichi, a formerly active producer and Shimizu Kiyoko, an actress turned producer. Sawamura had been been quite an influential figure in the past, he’d been away from the industry for the past couple of years for personal reasons and he had lost most of his old connections. Kiyoko had a similar issue to Yachi, as no one seemed to take her transition seriously, seeing her only as a pretty face first and a “decent” actor second. 

Show business really was brutal.

Karasuno Studios had been the only group to open its arm to Yachi and after accepting her, they’d quickly gone into work putting a show together to exemplify the best of what they had to offer and by a pure stroke of luck, they’d manage to score a decent MWF slot on the HiQ channel. Their pilot would either make them or break them. 

The name had been a last minute decision and a call back to the only role in theater that Yachi had ever gotten back in high school, Villager B in Rodger and Hammerstein’s Cinderella.

“So we just had to just have to knock their socks off, right??” 

“Basically, Yachi. We’re counting on you haha!” 

“E-Eep!! I’ll make you guys p-proud!” 

“Just try your best, Yachi.”

“Ahh, okay, Shimizu-senpai!” 

That had been the last conversation that the three had before the show went live for the first time. And from then on it’d been history. Viewers were hooked on the show and it quickly gained an enormous fanbase that turned Villager B into a ratings juggernaut. 

Now here they were, almost a year later. The show is doing better than ever, they’re pulling in bigger guests and musical performances each week, everyone’s hard work has finally paid off. Oh, and Yachi was now dating Shimizu as well. Basically things were golden for Karasuno and Villager B. 

But that doesn’t mean that Yachi still doesn’t get nervous before she goes on air every other night. Especially since for tonight, her favorite band is coming in to give an interview and perform on the show. Oh god, Yachi can feel her nerves and excitement getting the best of her. Okay, okay, keep calm. Deep breaths...deeeeep breaths…

“You’re still nervous, aren’t you?” a soft voice spoke up. Yachi opened her eyes and turned around, her worries seemed to melt away when she saw the person behind her. 

Not that she didn’t already know who it was.

“Shimizu! Ahh yeah haha. That obvious?” she replied sheepishly. Shimizu smiled softly and nodded.

“You’ll do a great job as always, Yachi. Don’t worry.” Shimizu reached over and squeezed Yachi’s hand causing the latter to blush and smile back. Oh god, it was still surreal for Yachi to know she had Shimizu all to herself. The woman was practically a goddess, both in appearance and action. 

“Thanks, Shimizu!” 

“Don’t mention it. Now let’s go get ready. We’re live in thirty minutes.”

* * *

“Dude, yeah I’m telling you he had LITERAL shark teeth!” Bokuto exclaimed, pointing to his own chompers in emphasis. Yachi giggled as Tsukishima and Kuroo gave their fellow band member disbelieving stares.

“How come you never brought this kid up before?” Kuroo asked, leaning back into the red sofa and folding his arms behind his head. 

“You never asked!” 

“Oh yeah, I’d definitely to know to ask you about a little redhead shark boy you met back in Australia.” Kuroo replied sarcastically while Bokuto simply shrugged.

“Sounds like you had a great childhood there, Bokuto-san.” Yachi interjected. Bokuto nodded vigorously.

“Definitely! Australia is great place to grow up. You should visit sometime! Say hi to Rin for me!” Bokuto laughed

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind haha.” Yachi smiled before coughing and getting back to the interview. “So we know that Bokuto is Australian and that he has a great accent and he had some..interesting friends. It sounds like your band is pretty culturally diverse though.” 

“Most of us are at least part-Japanese, but yes we all do have different backgrounds.” Kuroo replied.

“I’m just Japanese but Kuroo is Korean-Japanese, Bokuto is Japanese but he grew up in Australia, Oikawa’s British and Lev is obviously Russian.” Tsukishima added on. Yachi nodded as the studio audience was abuzz with quiet conversation and fangirling with this newfound information on their favorite band members. The Trash Kings never really touched on their pasts in their interviews, but it figured that Villager B would be the show to get the scoop.

“Oh wow. That’s so cool! Kuroo are you fluent in Korean as well?” 

“Geulae, nan hangugo iyagi.” 

“He speaks Korean.” Tsukishima clarified. Yachi made an o with her mouth. 

“Ooh. So Kuroo can you tell us about your background then?” Yachi asked, shifting her papers around a bit. They contained important notes on the three she was interviewing, mostly just facts about them gathered from their old interviews and such, but strangely Kuroo had the least amount of information in comparison to his bandmates. Which was weird considering he was the face of the band and their leader. 

“Hmm yeah, my mom’s Korean and my dad’s Japanese. We all lived in Japan though. Tokyo to be exact.” 

“Oh I see. What was your childhood like then? I can’t imagine it was like Bokuto’s swimming and surfing in Australia haha.” 

“Nahh. None of that. It was uhh interesting I guess. Honestly it’s not something I prefer to talk about, if that’s alright if you?” Kuroo said, smiling gently. Yachi blinked and immediately felt a wave of guilt wash over her. Oh god she’d made one of her guests feel uncomfortable. What kind of host was she?? Yachi had to force herself back into her proper mindset before continuing the interview.

“Oh of course! I’m sorry. Yeah let’s switch gears then. Can you tell me how things are nowadays with the band? New stuff you’ve got lined up, funny stories, maybe a little on your guys’ love lives? I know the audience would _love_ to hear about that!” she laughed. The audience let out some loud cheers and both Bokuto and Kuroo grinned at them. 

“We’ve definitely got a bunch of new stuff coming up. The homecoming tour is still going on and even though the tickets are sold out to the shows, we still do some ‘secret’ shows for our fans so follow us on social media. Tsukishima’s got all those details there.” Bokuto answered, motioning to his left where the blond was sitting. 

“Love lives though, hmm iunno man. Mine’s still the same, it’s a work in progress but we’ll see where that goes.” Bokuto continued. “But actually, this fella was telling me this morning about someone he’d met.” Kuroo gave the drummer a side glance for throwing him under the bus but he rolled with the punch.

“Mm. Yeah I was. Can’t say much cause it’s a bit private but they’re also involved with music. Probably the best violinist I’ve ever heard to be honest.” Kuroo smiled a bit as he thought about Kenma’s violin playing and just Kenma in general. 

“Oh gosh they sound wonderful! I’m so happy for you, both of you! I wish you guys the best of luck with your endeavors.” Yachi smiled warmly. The audience cheered as well, albeit a little somber upon hearing about Bokuto and Kuroo’s love interests. 

“That being said, it’s around time for the Trash Kings to perform! Get excited, audience!” Yachi called out, addressing the cheering audience. Tsukishima, Bokuto and Kuroo got up and went to the left half of the set which had previously been in the dark. The cameras followed them and the set was illuminated, revealing an edgy modern stage with steel and chrome detailing.

“Okay! This song we’re gonna play is actually a revamped cover from one of our member’s most beloved artists, someone we had the fortune to work with while in America. This is “Video Games” by Lana Del Rey!” Kuroo said. The audience screamed and cheered, having been allowed to move forward onto the set and pool up around the elevated stage.

“I’d also like to dedicate this song to a special someone watching the show. You know who you are.” Kuroo added, winking into the camera.

* * *

Kenma sat curled up in a ball in the sofa of his living room. He was hugging a big pillow and hold his 3DS in front of it but the game of Zelda had long been abandoned ever since he started watching TV, specifically Villager B as Kuroo had asked him to.

The interview had been interesting enough and Kenma had been able to manage playing his game and watching the show at the same time until Kuroo had been asked about his love life. 

Kenma would be lying if he said his heart didn’t seize up when Kuroo brought up him playing violin. ‘What the fuck, he’s talking about me on national television!’ Kenma had thought frantically, but excitedly. Truthfully it had been sweet for Kuroo to talk about him in front of everyone like that, it’d made Kenma feel elated, all those knots of worry and anxiety fading away as well. 

But then the Trash Kings started performing and fucking Kuroo DEDICATED the song to him.

What a fucking an ass.

What a fucking sweet, embarrassingly romantic ass. 

Plus the song was terribly, horribly romantic in itself as well. On top of it being called Video Games (haha, you’re funny, Kuroo Tetsurou), there were several verses that made Kenma feel all warm and bubbly inside knowing that the song was addressed to him. 

Like the chorus...which was coming up again. 

**Ohhh It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you.**  
Everything I do  
I tell you all the time  
Heaven is a place on earth with you  
Tell me all the things you wanna do  
I heard that you like the bad girls  
Honey, is that true?  
It’s better than I ever even knew  
They say that the world was built for two  
Only worth living if somebody is loving you  
Baby, now you do 

Tsukishima had the musical bulk of the song since their cover relied heavily on the synth while Bokuto simply carried even beats on his drums. This gave Kuroo the freedom to move around the stage and work with the crowd. As he sang, he reached down and high fived a bunch of the audience members in the front and he even sang a few lines directly to a handful of lucky fans. 

But the chorus of the song was different. Kuroo would stop interacting as much the audience and sang to the camera instead, staring at the black glassy lense as if trying to make eye contact with Kenma as he watched the show. He even pointed to the camera and grasped his chest when singing about a world built for two. 

Kenma’s felt his own heart pounding as he watched Kuroo perform. Even from miles away, Kenma felt the same exhilaration and adrenaline as he did actually being in the crowd at his first Trash Kings’ concert. In the back of his mind, Kenma had to wonder if those emotions came from watching the the Trash Kings’ play or if it was watching Kuroo sing and perform that actually did it. 

The song ended too quickly for Kenma’s liking, the pudding-haired boy had wanted to savor the song that was dedicated to him for a little while longer but Kenma supposed that’d be kinda selfish. A world famous rock star just sang a love song directed at him on national TV on a show that averages 6.3 million viewers a night. Kenma should’ve been satisfied with that.

But he wasn’t. He wanted more now. Kenma wanted to see Kuroo in person now more than ever. He wanted to talk to Kuroo, to listen to him sing and play more, to play his own classical music on his violin for Kuroo because maybe Kenma’s music could convey something that Kenma wasn’t ready to say out loud to Kuroo yet. 

Kenma hugged the pillow closer to himself and tried to calm his rabbit heart. These kinds of feelings were foreign to him. Kenma had never felt such a fucking abundance of contradictory emotions in his life. He’d just gone from a kind of euphoric happiness to a yearning sadness that made his heart ache. The only thing that Kenma knew for sure was that he wanted to talk to Kuroo now. 

He glanced at his phone but decided against texting the older boy. Villager B had just ended and it would probably be a few hours until Kuroo would be free to text him back. After all that kind of life was a job for Kuroo and he had responsibilities and formalities to address that took priority. 

“Kenma-san, your parents want you to go to bed soon.” one of the maids said from the doorway. Kenma nodded and shut off the TV and grabbed his phone and 3DS.

“Thank you. I was going to head up after this anyways. Have a good night, Yuki.” Kenma said as he left the room. Yuki bowed.

“Good night, Kenma.” 

As he walked up the stairs, Kenma decides to shoot Kuroo a text anyway. 

**To: Kuroo  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 10:07 PM**

**you talk too careless sometimes.**  
but that song was great, thank you.  
\---  
To: Kuroo  
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 10:08 PM 

**..also. i think i kind of..**  
maybe..feel the same.  
um towards you ofc.  
\---  
To: Kuroo   
Sent: 13/11/14 @ 10:09 PM 

**ok im done. good night.**  
\---  
To: Heartbreak (Kenma)  
Sent: 14/11/14 @ 12:23 AM 

**< 3**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone enjoyed that. i'm like..dead rn. i'm assuming that people have noticed this but i reference a lotttt of pop culture and animes. this chapter i remember putting in laverne cox from orange is the new black and rin matsuoka from free. lolol bokuto and rin as childhood friends, can you imagine that? :'D but yes yes, everyone is so diverse yessss. i love adding in culture. you're also correct if you picked up on kuroo and his parents though that'll be addressed later on. this fic is arranged in arcs and currently it's the kenma arc. oops.
> 
> also threw in that kagehina and kiyoyachi goodness that people love. more characters will come up as i go and a lot of things will connect, you'll see. there actually is a plot in this thing, there's just a lot of exposition and building of romance. i hate rushing shit you know? i think things are more believable this way as well. 
> 
> oh and if you wanna hear The Young Professional's versions of Video Games, click [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sexPTYJ4fbo).
> 
> but yeah! **comment** below, say hi! tell me what you think. **headcanons/what do you wanna see?** leave kudos, and if you want come and talk to me and ask me stuff on my [tumblr](http://tsuyuchii.tumblr.com/).


	6. Naive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I RISE FROM THE ASHES TO DELIVER THIS CHRISTMAS MIRACLE FOR YOU ALL RIGHT NOW. i wrote the entirety of this chapter on christmas eve LOLOLOL. please don't stone me for being away for so long. i haven't even really been active on tumblr ngl because of one thing.
> 
> COLLEGE.
> 
> my first semester of my freshman year of college is over and holy shit it's been wild. but yeah. i've been absorbed with college work and such so doing any writing was incredibly difficult. but don't think i've abandoned his work. it's my baby and i intend to see it to its entirety. no matter how long that may take ahahah.
> 
> but yeah. A QUICK NOTE ABOUT THIS CHAPTER. there's a certain character in here that if you HAVEN'T read [the wikasa chronicles](http://archiveofourown.org/series/105782) ahead of time then you'll probably be confused by her. so for **YOUR BENEFIT** i highly suggest reading that beforehand. really, you'll thank. B) 
> 
> anyways, this chapter's title is [Naive by The Kooks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5OaNh69u1mQ). check it cool.

“So yeah, looks like I can’t make it to the theater today. Sorry, Heartbreak.” Kuroo leaned back into his bed, strumming guitar mindlessly. His gaze was focused on the screen of his laptop as he was currently Skyping his pudding-haired gamer. 

On the other screen Kenma seemed immersed in playing Alpha Sapphire on his 3DS but Kuroo caught the quick flick of his golden eyes glancing over at Kuroo on his own laptop screen. 

“..Sounds like it can’t be helped. That’s fine. Saves me a train ticket.” he replied. Kuroo simply smirked in response.

“Aw don’t be like that, babe. I know you enjoy our little rendezvouses.” Kuroo teased. Kenma shot him a half-hearted glare while willing his blush to die down. Regardless of Kuroo’s unabashed flirting, Kenma did in fact like meeting up with Kuroo every now and again at the theater. It was a great chance for Kenma improve his composing skills as Kuroo helped him form melodies and harmonies with his guitar. But finding time in both their schedules to meet up was getting tougher, so the two had traded Skypes. 

“Hmph.” 

“Cold as ever, Heartbreak. But I gotta go soon. I’ll play you out haha.” Kuroo sat up and began picking out a tune on his guitar. It’d been his habit to end his and Kenma’s Skype calls with songs. Secretly it was something Kenma enjoyed too. 

_“Baby ‘cause in the dark_   
_You can’t see shiny cars_   
_And that’s when you need me there_   
_With you I’ll always share._   
_Because_   
_When the sun shines, we’ll shine together_   
_Told you I’d be here forever_   
_Said I’ll always be a friend.”_

Kenma smiled the tiniest bit before moving up on his bed to move his fingers onto the track pad.

“Ok. Good bye, Kuroo.”

_“You can stand under my umbrella,_   
_You can stand under my umbrella._   
_Ella ella eh eh eh.”_

Kuroo gave Kenma one last wink before the call ended. 

=====

The Trash Kings and their manager sat in the back of a limousine as the “exaggerated vehicle” (to quote Akaashi) branded with a gold cursive W on the side drove to its destination. The boys were all dressed prim and proper but it did nothing to disguise the tension in the air. Everyone, except for Oikawa, was dreading the meeting that was to take place. Especially Iwaizumi. 

Because today he’d have to put up with someone more annoying than Lev, more haughty than Kuroo, more loud than Bokuto, more sarcastic than Tsukishima and if possible, more dramatic than Oikawa. This could only be one person in IwaIzumi Hajime’s life. Oh yes, _her_. Even the thought of that woman was draining Iwaizumi’s patience.

But who was this woman, one might ask?

Only the CEO of the recording company that the Trash KIngs were signed to in the first place, of course. Satan’s little female incarnate, Kururugi Mikasa. Head of one of Japan’s most lucrative and popular recording labels, Wikasa Records. Mikasa was the only person that Iwaizumi knew who was not only arrogant enough build a company titled after her _first_ name, but stupid enough to accidentally flip the first letter of her name when trademarking said company. 

Oh, Mikasa was a real piece of work alright. But Wikasa was a strong force in the music industry and like it or not, Iwaizumi had to admit that the Trash Kings would have never gotten to their current level of stardom had it not been for Mikasa’s guidance and influence. Mikasa was a bitch, but it was no doubt she knew her shit. And for that, Iwaizumi was thankful.

“You guys need to lighten up. I for one am over the moon to see Wikasa-chan again!” Oikawa chirped. 

“Shut the hell up, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi replied, in no mood to be reminded of Oikawa’s weirdass crush on Mikasa. 

Ever since Oikawa had laid eyes on the Wikasa CEO, he had a raging love boner for the crazy woman. Iwaizumi had no idea what his friend saw in that woman seeing as Mikasa was nowhere in the realm of kindness regarding how she acted towards OIkawa, but thankfully OIkawa being Oikawa, his mind never stayed on the topic of Mikasa for too long. 

Thank god too because Iwaizumi wasn’t sure how much “Oh my god, Wikasa-chan is so cute” or “Guys, Wikasa-chan and I are meant to be” he could take. One could interpret Iwaizumi’s vehemence towards such bullshit as general distaste for Wikasa or underlying jealousy but Iwaizumi wasn’t fessing up anytime soon. 

The car came to a stop in front of an imposing glass skyscraper, again branded with the golden cursive W. The boss’ lair and their destination. 

“This is gonna be a longass day.” Tsukishima grumbled. And for once, everyone agreed with him.

=====

If one were to describe Kururugi Mikasa with one sentence it would be this.

Mikasa is a meme loving fuck.

And that is a fact.

The woman, despite all her power and influence and business-oriented genius and intuition, is the definition of eccentric. At the tender age of 28, she’s already the CEO of a multibillion company and an acknowledged entrepreneur on the global scale. But this same woman, Kururugi Mikasa, brilliant CEO and entrepreneur, is the same Kururugi Mikasa that has a Tinder account with her interests being "volleyball gays, bad fanfiction, and that little plastic thing at the end of your shoelace lol". While most of the world only knew the name Wikasa for its powerful CEO, the people that were close to Mikasa knew her for what she really was. And that was a meme loving fuck.

Mikasa was publicly known to be involved in hostile takeovers and the company dissolutions of her adversaries, but privately she enjoyed bare-chested horseback riding, shitposting on Tumblr and yodeling about obscure OTPs. 

On a Tuesday.

Fucking dammit, the woman was the most irritating genius Iwaizumi had ever met. And he was best friends with Oikawa Tooru for heaven’s sake.

“Right this way. Miss Kururugi will be with you all shortly.” said one of Mikasa’s interns. The brown-haired, freckled boy led the Trash Kings and their manager into Mikasa’s office where not surprisingly, the woman was absent. Her desk was a mess and some drawers were left open still. It seemed like when Mikasa was here last, she’d been in a hurry to leave. 

Either some important Wikasa business came up or Mikasa realized she’d forgotten to record to the last episode of Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun on her DVR. Both were very feasible possibilities. 

“Thank you, err, sorry but what was your name again?” Tsukishima asked, feeling a slightly bad when he saw the boy’s expression turn a bit nervous.

“Oh n-no problem! I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi!” Yamaguchi replied enthusiastically. His deep brown eyes seemed to glitter as he spoke to Tsukishima.

“Yamaguchi.” Iwaizumi nodded. “Were you the one I spoke on the phone with? I mistook you for Mikasa’s secretary then.” Yamaguchi laughed shyly.

“Yes, that was me, sir. But no, I’m just Miss Kururugi’s intern. Her actual secretary was just released from her position yesterday..” 

“Oooh, sounds like some trouble! What’d they do?” Lev interjected, ducking when Iwaizumi attempted to smack him for being nosy.

“O-Oh well, um-”

A loud voice interrupted Yamaguchi.

“The bitch had the nerve to bring me a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks when I asked her to get me something.” Mikasa answered, stepping into the room with her usual confidence before sitting comfortably in her overly large and imposing leather swivel chair behind her desk. 

“Not a fan of the fall season?” Kuroo teased with his own usual charm. 

Mikasa snorted.

“Do I look like a basic white girl to you?” she replied before adding, “Don’t answer that if you want to stay with my label, hotshot.” Kuroo simply smiled.

“Mikasa, it’s good to see you again.” Iwaizumi said, stepping forward to shake his boss’ hand.

“Iwac-han. A pleasure.” she drawled, shaking his hand loosely. Iwaizumi tried to pretend that that stupid nickname didn’t piss him off but it did. Oikawa had been texting Mikasa one day and he’d made a typo out of Iwaizumi’s name and unfortunately Mikasa ran with it. He’d been Iwac-han to her ever since.

“Wikasa-chan you look extra cute today!!” Oikawa chirped, giving her his most charming smile. 

“Shut it, you shriveled bagpipe.” 

“Uwahh, Wikasa-chan’s so cruel~” Mikasa rolled her eyes at the brunette.

“Anyways, I called you guys here for a few reasons.” she said, leaning forward on her desk and assuming a position that looked oddly similar to a certain Gendo Ikari. There seemed to be a collective gulp between everyone else in the room. 

“The first was to formally welcome you all back to Japan. You boys did a fine job on your international tour, I must say. I wasn’t expecting that much from you, but good job!” Mikasa threw back her head and laughed cheerfully. Iwaizumi gave her a dry look. Only Mikasa could sincerely fuse an insult and a compliment like that. 

“Thank you, Wikasa-chan!” Oikawa replied happily. 

“Yup. And now that you all are back, you guys really need to step your game up. You’ve done well making your a band a household name, but I won’t stand to back a group that’s become a stale commodity.” 

At this Kuroo cleared his throat and stepped forward a bit, always the first to defend his bandmates. 

“With all due respect, Mi-”

Mikasa raised her hand.

“Hush, Kuroo-Cat, I haven’t finished talking yet.” Kuroo frowned a bit but nonetheless stood down. “So what I need from you boys is a new single. Something fresh and different in sound from the stuff you’ve put out in the past. This way once we get it live and on the airwaves, it’ll simply be more tinder for the talk about you Trash Kings. Think you can have a song ready for production in say a week?” 

The boys all exchanged looks. A new sound wasn’t impossible, no, but with that time crunch? Would it really be possible to have a new track ready and mastered in such a shor-

“Of course, Wikasa-chan!” Oikawa chirped. Bokuto held Kuroo back from smacking the guitarist upside the head. Mikasa smiled and clapped her hands. 

“Great. You can start now. Glasses you can work on a harmony and the music-y parts in the studio room. If you need anything, Yamaguchi will be there to help. The rest of you can work in the other room on lyrics and shit, alright?”

The boys could do little but nod, finding it easier to go along with Mikasa’s chaotic whirlwind style of doing things.

“Good. Now get out, I’ve gotta check in on my oil stocks and read Tokyo Ghoul.”

“Okay! Bye Wikasa-chan!” 

“Remember, boys. Kaneki Ken did nothing wrong.”

“..What does that even mean.” 

“Don’t ask, Leg Halibut. Just go.” 

=====

Growing up, Yamaguchi Tadashi was no stranger to being picked on for being the “shy fidgety boy”. He didn’t have much that made him stand out. Brown hair, brown eyes, freckles, average family. Average boy. _Average life._

Except Yamaguchi had never wanted to be average. 

He wanted to succeed. To be really, really good at something. To have pride in what he did and in himself. It took a long time to come to this realization, but once Yamaguchi did. He devoted all his time and effort to a certain task. 

Music.

Yamaguchi wasn’t born an extraordinary musician, but he had the work ethic to continue to practice and improve. With each day every chord and arpeggio sounded stronger, every movement of Yamaguchi’s fingers on those black and ivory keys felt more fluid and slowly musical pieces came with more ease. Bach. Liszt. Schubert. Beethoven. Yamaguchi became an exceptional pianist through nothing but hard work and practice. 

But no tale of accomplishment is ever complete without a person to aspire after. And of course, Yamaguchi had someone like this. And it was none other than the Trash King’s very own keyboardist. 

Tsukishima Kei. 

Yamaguchi was up to date with all the popular artists today, in fact one of his practice methods/hobbies was to make piano covers of popular modern songs and upload them onto YouTube for criticism and others' enjoyment. He had quite a following on his channel actually with a subscriber count nearing 650,000 back then. It appeared that people on the web appreciated shy, freckled pianists for some reason or another. Plus Yamaguchi’s covers were pretty good if he had to say so himself. 

But back to the main point. Some of Yamaguchi’s most popular covers were songs from the Trash Kings. Yamaguchi found he enjoyed that particular group’s music especially. Their music sounded the best played over the piano and upon watching one of their interviews he found out why. 

Tsukishima was responsible for most of the musical melodies, composing them all first on his own keyboard or piano before Oikawa or Kuroo or any of the other members added their own twists on the music. A majority of the songs stemmed first from the piano. A very organic way of composing songs in this day and age if one thought about all the electronic influences on the music industry nowadays. 

Yamaguchi idolized Tsukishima for his commitment to true music and was an active fan of the Trash Kings. Imagine his excitement when his Youtube channel led him to be discovered by one of the talent agents working for none other than Wikasa Records, the same label Tsukishima and the rest of the Trash Kings were signed to. 

However they had not come to sign Yamaguchi, nor would the brunette have been interested in entering the music scene as a entertainer. Yamaguchi knew his boundaries and performing in front of mass crowds he could actually _see_ lied way beyond them. The talent agent gave him the opportunity to get his foot in the door with the music industry by making him an intern for Wikasa Records' CEO, Miss Kururugi herself. 

But for him that job meant little more than an errand boy to be honest.

Still it wasn’t without perks. Yamaguchi got to meet a plethora of Mikasa’s big name clients, and finally today he got to meet the ones he adored the most, the Trash Kings. And now thanks to Mikasa, he had the opportunity to work for Tsukishima Kei. 

Somebody pinch him.

“Hey. Hey. Yamaguchi. Are you listening to me?” 

“W-Wha-huh?” Yamaguchi blinked, pulling himself out of his own reverie. Tsukishima tch’d at him before motioning the brunette to come over to the piano where he was sitting in front of. 

Yamaguchi quickly strode over to the blonde’s side. 

“Y-Yes, sir?” Tsukishima waved his hand. 

“Drop the sir. Just Tsukishima is fine.” Yamaguchi nodded and Tsukishima continued. “I just need you to tell me how this sounds.” 

Tsukishima shuffled through some of the pieces of sheet music first, they were all marked up with his own music in blue pen. Yamaguchi gulped. He couldn’t believe it! Tsukishima was going to play something for him and he’d be the first the hear the workings of the Trash King’s newest song! If this was a dream then somebody better wake him up now before it gets too good to be true. 

Finally finding the page he’d been looking for, Tsukishima placed the other papers aside before cracking his knuckles and flexing them. Yamaguchi hated when people did that and he flinched a bit at the sound of the joints popping, but he wouldn’t deny that it somewhat was attractive when Tsukishima did it. 

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Oh it’s fine! Totally fine!” 

“Right, well. Here goes.” 

The melody that Tsukishima played was entrancing. It was soft and heartbreaking but as the piece went on, the melody grew stronger before faltering off at the end. The song gave Yamaguchi goosebumps but watching Tsukishima play in front of him gave him chills. 

“I tried to go with something different like Mikasa said.” Tsukishima said, turning to face Yamaguchi. “Well? Thoughts?” 

“Hmm..you’re right about it being different. It’s not like the stuff you’ve guys have done in the past. It’s...sadder, I think. B-But that’s not a bad thing! I think it’s a very emotional piece. But um..” he trailed off.

Tsukishima rose an eyebrow. “But what?” 

“C-Can I make a suggestion?” he asked shyly. 

“Go for it.” 

“W-Well...in the last third of the song if you switch some of the notes to flats rather than sharps it’ll have a more, uhh, dramatic effect. If that’s what you’re going for.” Yamaguchi said. 

Tsukishima was quiet for a bit as he inspected the page in question. 

“..I agree. Here you can make the changes as you see fit.” the blond handed the papers over to Yamaguchi who carefully began marking up the music with his own red pen. As he did, Tsukishima watched him carefully. “You play piano?” he asked.

“Y-Yes!” came the reply as Yamaguchi handed the pages back to Tsukishima. 

“How long?” 

“Umm..a long time. Maybe ten or eleven years now.” Tsukishima blinked in surprise. Yamaguchi waved both his hands in embarrassment. “I’m twenty-two! Plus the people from Wikasa Records found me on Youtube from my cover channel.” 

“Ohh, I see. So my suspicions were right. You must be quite a talented pianist then.” he replied. 

Yamaguchi felt the tips of his ears and his whole face, in fact, turn a bit red. 

“R-Really??” 

Tsukishima scoffed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“By mere deduction, yes. Mikasa wouldn’t have sent any brown-noser to help me. Nor would you be working here if you weren’t the least bit musically-inclined. Plus you made a good call editing this piece.” he answered. ‘Plus I’ve seen your videos before.’ That part he kept to himself, however. It was one of the few times he hadn’t been annoyed after Lev showing him a Youtube video. 

“..T-Thank you!” Yamaguchi exclaimed, not knowing what else to say.

“You’re welcome. Now, help me polish this piece up. I’m sure Kuroo and the others will want the framework for our new song ready as soon as possible.” Tsukishima moved over a bit on the stool, clearly making room for Yamaguchi to sit. It wasn’t a small stool, mind you, but still the proximity was a matter of concern for Yamaguchi. He’d never played _with_ someone before. 

“I...are you sure?” he asked with wide eyes.

“Yes. Now hurry up, we’ve got work to do.” 

Yamaguchi couldn’t help but smile out of happiness. Tsukishima’s eyes flicked from the manuscript to the young man. ‘..He should smile more.” he thought to himself. 

“Let’s get to work then!” Yamaguchi replied, taking his place beside Tsukishima.

Yamaguchi took it back. He could stay in this dream forever for all he cared. 

=====

The boys all rode back to the Shiratorizawa in the same limousine; everyone was exhausted. It was late at night now and when they’d arrived it’d been around noon. But their efforts hadn’t been in vain as the song was nearing about 65% completion. Kuroo and Bokuto were currently poring over Tsukishima’s manuscript. It was a bit hard to read what with the combination of red and blue pen marks. 

Kuroo frowned and looked over at Tsukishima. 

“Hey what’s with the red pen? You always write in blue pen.” he asked. It was true though. Even since their fledgling days, all Tsukishima’s music was written in blue pen. 

Tsukishima simply shrugged. 

“Had a little help. He wrote in red.” he replied. 

Kuroo and Bokuto both raised their eyebrows in mild surprise. GIven how OCD Tsukishima was, logically he would have had the other person switch to blue pen to match his. However the manuscript was clearly a combined work. 

Equals parts red.

Equal parts blue. 

“Hmph.” Kuroo didn’t feel like pushing the topic any further. But the work Tsukishima and the other guy had done was pretty damn good. He and Bokuto were able to sight-read most of it. 

“Yo, Oikawa wanna check the ‘script out?” Bokuto asked before Lev shushed him. 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi were currently asleep and of course they were leaned up against the other’s shoulder. How cute.

Bokuto and Kuroo, both getting a devilish idea moved over to sit beside the other. Kuroo on OIkawa’s side and Bokuto on the other. The two each reached an arm up in front of the sleeping couple and made a heart with their hands. Lev, catching on, sat on the floor and threw up peace signs. 

“Hey, Tsukishima. Snap us a pic.” Bokuto said. 

Tsukishima chuckled but did so nonetheless. He even put the picture on Instagram for added effect. 

**We ship it. #iwaoi #trashkings #longday #longernights #newmusic #comingsoon**

=====

Upon getting back to the suite, Bokuto had been more than ready to simply crash in bed. That’s what most of the guys had done actually. Iwaizumi had to practically piggy-back Oikawa to their suite because he began acting like a cranky child once they woke him up when they arrived at the hotel.

But that was before the drummer noticed a certain body guard curled up in his bed instead. Normally Bokuto would have probably vibrated with the cuteness that the scene delivered him, but Bokuto was also incredibly observant. (Probably more so than Kuroo, to be honest) He noticed Akaashi’s somewhat haggard breathing and sweating. A quick touch of his forehead and Bokuto could tell the man had a high fever. 

He looked around and saw the wastebasket filled with used tissues and empty water bottles. Akaashi must have spent most of the day sick at the suite. It made sense given that the usually dutiful bodyguard decided to stay behind at the hotel rather than accompany everyone to Wikasa Records. 

Bokuto frowned. Akaashi hadn’t texted him saying he was sick either, otherwise Bokuto would have made a pit stop at a pharmacy or something to get him medicine and such. Not that he really expected to Akaashi to do such a thing. The man never asked anything of anyone and kept to himself. Bokuto pulled another blanket on top of Akaashi. It wouldn’t kill Akaashi to try to take better care of himself though. 

After admiring his handiwork (Akaashi was now bundled up like an infant in blankets and pillow and he’d placed a cold press on his forehead), Bokuto sat back in the armchair in the corner of his room. It was probably best to stay in the room just in case Akaashi needed anything. Plus he was too tired to make a bed on the sofa in the living room at this point. He quickly dozed off. 

Akaashi shifted a bit in bed before opening one eye just slightly. Oh it was just Bokuto. Hrm..made sense..this was Bokuto’s bed after all. He’d been too feverish and delirious to care too much about where he decided to settle in for the night. Bokuto’s room was the closest to the kitchen plus his bed was sooooo comfortable. And it...kinda...smelled nice. Bokuto kinda smelled niced.

...What?

Akaashi grumbled a bit. 

Too sick. 

He chalked his nonsensical thoughts up to his fever. 

Though he would've preferred Bokuto to join him in bed as well. He would have been a most comfortable pillow for Akaashi. 

=====

“What are you looking at?” Kenma asked, peeking over Kuroo’s shoulder. This apparently frightened the latter as Kuroo almost fell face forward off the edge of the stage where he’d been sitting, so deep in thought over Tsukishima’s manuscript. Kenma frowned and stepped back a bit. “Uh..sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Kuroo coughed and tried to regain his cool guy persona. He raked his fingers through his hair and flashed Kenma a reassuring smile. 

“Don’t sweat it, Heartbreak. I was just thinking about this new song the guys and I are working on. Oh! This is top secret by the way, so don’t tell anyone haha.” Kenma snorted before sitting now next to Kuroo to look at the script. Kuroo’s was a photo copy so all the notes were simply black. Made it easier to sight-read, not that Kenma needed the help. He’d been the one to teach Kuroo how to improve his sight-reading. Their meetings were equally beneficial to improving their musical abilities.

“It sounds very nice. You guys are going for a new sound, I assume? It’s slower and sadder than your past stuff.” Kenma commented, directing his attention to the task of tuning his violin. 

Kuroo grinned and nodded, messing up the top of Kenma’s hair. The boy hated that, but it was cute to see Kenma bristle up with irritation like a cat. 

“Yup! Tsukishima got the foundation for the song done so now everyone’s off adding their own parts and twists before we reconvene to rework the song before recording.” he explained. Kenma nodded.

“Sounds very technical.”

“Ehh. It can be. That’s how we do most of our songs really. But with this one. Iunno...seems like it could use a little extra something. The chief wants it to be extra special too.” Kuroo watched Kenma pluck at some of the strings of his violin, he was checking the outcome of his tuning.

That’s when the idea hit it.

The missing element of the song.

The perfect complement for the song.

A violinist. 

But not just _any_ violinist. 

Kenma. It had to be Kenma. 

He was the most talented violinist Kuroo had ever met and with his music the song would be incredible. Omigod, Kuroo could imagine it now. The newest hot single from the Trash Kings. Number 1 on the charts for weeks. Oh fuck yes. Taylor Swift might have a Blank Space, but the Trash Kings were about to write their own names in it. 

All he needed to do was convince Kenma to do help. No doubt the boy wouldn’t want his name placed anywhere near the track’s production, but they could do anonymity. It would just be a sample of Kenma’s violin after all. 

Oh fuck shit. This was going to take every bit of charm and swagger Kuroo had in him. Maybe if he took Kenma by surprise, he’d be too flustered to think too much about it and just agree. It was true that Kenma was slowly getting used to Kuroo’s flirtation, but how would he fare when Kuroo switched it into…

_Maximum overdrive_. 

Kuroo cleared his throat and hopped off the stage to face Kenma who was still sitting and messing with his violin. Kenma wasn’t even paying him any notice. Okay. Okay. Perfect. He still had the element of surprise. 

Kuroo got down on one knee. 

Kenma paused, but he still didn’t look up at Kuroo. 

Kuroo took a deep breath and turned his gaze towards Kenma, making sure to put every bit of smoldering goodness into it. Then he went for the clincher.

Kuroo clasped Kenma’s free hand in his own two. He nestled it like an injured dove like the it was their (one-sided) relationship. 

“..Kuroo what the h-” he interrupted the pudding-haired boy. The violin was also placed down. 

“Kenma Kozume. Will you...do me the great honor...and please… _please_

…

…

...playviolininmysong?” he quickly finished, stringing his words together. 

Kenma was silent. 

Kuroo was silent. 

The cats were silent. 

The whole theater was silent. 

This was a game of cat and mouse. Whoever spoke first lost. But the silence was killing Kuroo. He needed an answer and it had to be yes...otherwise this was gonna be SOOOOoooo awkward. 

Finally Kenma did something. 

He poked Kuroo’s forehead with the tip of his bow. Kinda hard actually. Kuroo flinched and let go of Kenma’s hand to rub the spot where he’d poked him. 

“Ow!!” he exclaimed. “Th-that...does that mean yes??” 

“Why.” 

“Why?”

“Yes, why. Why should I play in your song? You’ve been plenty successful with just the five of you.” Kenma set his bow down beside his violin. 

“I mean! I’m not like asking you to join the Trash Kings. I just think that this song needs a violin in it. It’d sound sooo much better.” 

“So then just hire a professional violinist.” Kenma suggested.

“That’s not the same!” Kuroo huffed. “It _has_ to be _you_!” 

Kenma pursed his lips a bit. “And why is that?” 

“B-Because!” Kuroo was getting flustered. It appeared his scheme had backfired. 

“Because what?” Kenma goaded him on, interested to see where this would go. 

“Because..! Because you’re the most amazing, most talented violinist I’ve ever seen! When you play it’s fucking _majestic_. Your music is unforgettable and perfect and your playing is perfect and you’re perfect, I mean. Fuck. Fuck it. Kenma will you please, please, please play for this song? For the Trash Kings? ...For me?”

Kenma’s face was bright red and Kuroo would be lying if he said he didn’t have a twinge of red on his cheeks. He hadn’t exactly intended on verbally spilling his guts but every word he’d said was true and he’d meant it. 

Kenma bit at the corner of his lip and stared down at the side, too embarrassed to speak to Kuroo face-to-face. 

“...If that’s how you really feel then fine.” he mumbled. 

Kuroo restrained himself from jumping with joy. 

“Heartbreak, you’re the best!” Kuroo pulled Kenma into a hug. Kenma felt himself turn three shades darker.

“Let go before I take it back.” Kuroo immediately released him and stepped back, his hands up in peace but an overjoyed smile graced his features. Kenma knit his brows together. It was too hard to stay annoyed at Kuroo for long godammit. 

=====

**To: Yaboybokuto**   
**Sent: 27/11/14 @ 7:17PM**

**KENMA KOZUME CONFIRMED FOR NEW SONG.**  
\---  
 **To: SUCKMYASSkuroo**  
 **Sent: 27/11/14 @ 7:18PM**

**you really crave that mineral, don’t you?**

“...What does that even mean?” 

“Means he'd climb nearly 90 degrees.” 

=====

Truth be told, the whole operation of getting Kenma into Wikasa Records to record his violin part had been more of a hassle than Kuroo had originally anticipated. Kenma really didn’t feel comfortable interacting with the rest of the Trash Kings given his past experiences with them, so Kuroo had to find time to work one-on-one with Kenma on the song. Not that he minded at all, Kuroo enjoyed any bit of time he got alone with his favorite Heartbreak, but carving time in his schedule was only getting harder. 

Regardless, he gotten time to get Kenma into the studio and like the virtuoso he was, Kenma got the violin sample done in one take. It was an in-and-out process and just like that, Kenma’s part was done. The producer would simply mix the sample into the song once it was recorded and they’d be all set. 

But once that was done, Kuroo only got more busy with his work, spending most of his days in the studios with the rest of his bandmates and the theater trips and Skype calls and even texts started to come fewer and in between. 

And like some twist of fate, Kenma’s relationship with his parents only continued to grow more tense. They were really starting to get on his case about college apps and they were even fighting between themselves on the topic. Izuru wanted to send Kenma to an American institution, citing that he’d get a better quality of education there while Rika wanted Kenma to stay in Japan (but to apply to Todai of all places). Neither were options that Kenma found particularly enticing since they both agreed he needed to pursue a top-notch business program. Nowhere in their lines of thinking did music even cross. 

Kenma’s own wish was to pursue a degree in music and maybe performance (if he ever got over his stage fright that is, but a boy could hope). And if he really was honest, his reach school was Juilliard School all the way in New York’s Center for Performing Arts. 

But that was a long way from Japan, and an even farther way from his parents’ wishes. 

Thus the fights became more frequent at the Kenma residence and the dinners and interactions that much more awkward and uncomfortable for Kenma. And while Kenma did his best to vent his frustrations out to his best friend, Shouyou, Kenma still wished he had Kuroo to talk to as well. But the man was busy. Understandable. 

He was a rock star, after all.

Kenma sighed and curled into a ball, hugging his pillow to his chest and playing his PSP over it. It was late and it was also a school night but after another stressful day with his parents, Kenma decided he needed the game time. His laptop laid open as well at the end of his bed. He’d been working on an assignment for school before getting too frustrated and switching over to game instead. 

_Ping!_

A little red marker popped up on the email button of his Macbook’s dashboard.

Kenma heard the email notification and kept playing for a bit before sighing and moving over to check the new message. It was probably just spam from Gamestop or Steam or something. 

...From tetsurou.kuroo@trashkings.com? 

Kenma frowned at stared at the email for a bit. The subject said TOP SECRET and there appeared to be an attachment as well. An MP3 to be exact. 

Kenma hadn’t remembered giving Kuroo his email, but some quick deduction reminded him Skype probably gave him that. Nonetheless Kenma opened the message.

**From: tetsurou.kuroo@trashkings.com**   
**Sent: 08/12/14 @ 1:14AM**   
**Subject: TOP SECRET**

**Dearest Heartbreak,**

**Though my heart is literally breaking from this absence of you in my life, I’m sorry to say I am still not able to rendezvous at our little theater. I am terribly busy with work. As you can imagine, the life of a rockstar is not for the faint of heart. Progress with the song is nearing completion, thanks to your gracious contribution. You’ll see in the attachment I have snuck in a quote-end-quote prototype of the song for your enjoyment. Strictly acoustic. Please enjoy.**

**Alright well in all seriousness, I’m really sorry I haven’t been able to meet up. :( Life sucks and I don’t like being a grown-up. No one ever told me how busy a rockstar would be when they were trying to shoot my dreams down. Maybe then I would have listened. XD Jk jk. But yeah, that MP3 is seriously top secret, it’s actually uhh..kinda illegal for me to give it to you since I’m bound by contract and shit. But I thought you’d like it. It’s just acoustic so it’s only me and my guitar but I’m singing the new lyrics so that’s nice. I hope you’re well and you aren’t dying of boredom cause I’m not around to spice things up haha! We’ll meet up soon, I promise!! >:D **

**Miss you,**  
 **Kuroo**

**Attachment: Not-About-Angels.mp3**

Kenma felt a smile tug at his lips and a warmness spread throughout his body. It was nice to know that Kuroo had been thinking of him and hearing from him, even if it was via email, was still comforting. Kenma missed his stupidity. His silly, charming, cheerful stupidity. 

Kenma moved his mouse to click on the attachment and watched it transfer over to iTunes. He grabbed a pair of headphones and connected to his laptop’s jack before pressing play on the song. 

_We know full well there’s just time_   
_So is it wrong to toss this line?_   
_If your heart was full of love_   
_Could you give it up?_

He could hear Kuroo strumming the guitar slowly as he sang. Slow and sad.

_Cause what about, what about angels?_   
_They will come, they will go, make us special_

_Don’t give me up,_   
_Don’t give…_   
_Me up_

His playing grew more powerful as did his voice. Kuroo’s familiar baritone sounded heartbroken and mournful. Kenma felt the prickling of tears in the corners of his eyes but he didn’t dare move to wipe them. He was too entranced by Kuroo’s voice. 

_How unfair, it’s just our love_   
_Found something real that’s out of touch_   
_But if you’d searched the whole wide world_   
_Would you dare to let it go?_

_Cause what about, what about angels?_   
_They will come, they will go, make us special_

_Don’t give me up,_   
_Don’t give…_   
_Me up_

_Cause what about, what about angels?_   
_They will come, they will go, make us special_

Tears were now freely flowing from Kenma’s eyes. His chest felt painful. Heavy. Full of an emotion he was unaware of. It hurt, it hurt terribly so. But oddly Kenma didn’t want it to go away. And all of its tenacity was directed towards the one and only Kuroo Tetsurou, whose voice was physically bringing Kenma to tears. 

Damn him. 

_It’s not about, not about angels. Angels._

The song ended and all Kenma could do was close his laptop and roll back into the ball he’d previous been formed in. He buried his face in his pillow to stem his tears and cried quietly. A lot of it was frustration and pent-up stress, but a good portion of it was that other emotion. The one that tore and mended his heart a thousand times over. 

Kenma didn’t understand the emotion or why it made him feel the way he did, but he knew it was caused by one person and one person only. 

Kuroo Tetsurou. 

And as much as he wanted to hit and yell at the man for making him feel this way, Kenma wished for one thing above all else in that moment. 

He wished Kuroo was there with him right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i put every effort to include as many ships in this chapter as i possibly could omfg. and i've heard ALL your cries for tsukiyama. it was answered. it will continue to be answered. and ushioi will come as well, it just didn't work plot-wise for this chapter. it'll be the next one if i follow my current plans. i hope people get my jokes and references omg. i reference everything from tumblr memes, spongebob, anime, etc. please tell me my jokes don't fall on deaf ears LOL. 
> 
> kuroo's version of Umbrella by Rihanna can be heard [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kY2iH18Ig5s). it's a bluegrass twist on umbrella. it's glorious. listen to it. love it. and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vj_VidtyaOc) is Not About Angels by Birdy. yeah it's that song from the fault in our stars. it's sad. it's perfect. 
> 
> i would also like to direct your attention to [THIS](http://8tracks.com/wowthisisgay/pretty-face-electric-soul) 8tracks of the songs used in this fic. it's fucking glorious. the creator said they'll be adding songs i use as they go so everyone send words of gratitude to this lovely being. 
> 
> also. shieru if you're reading this, yes i did reference your tumblr url <3 i love you. 
> 
> OKAY THAT IS ALL. please leave me any comments or kudos here or reach me on my tumblr over [here](http://tsuyuchii.tumblr.com/)


	7. I of the Storm [REVISED]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **why did no one tell me that only 1/3 of the chapter even uploaded onto this godforsaken site omfg. to those of you who read the first version of this chapter that ao3 fucked up, IM SO SORRY OMFG. anyways here is the chapter again....fixed....bc ao3 hates me and doesn't tell me important things...tbc in the end notes**
> 
> lmao. hi, how ya been? 
> 
> after many months i give you this new chapter which can be summarized as "the gang takes bad advice" tbh..
> 
> chapter title is from of monsters and men's new album, beneath the skin. it's [I Of The Storm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tlCkafSYNJI).
> 
> i fucking gave up on formatting this for ao3. fuck both the rich text and html.

“Kenma, you’ve really improved these past few weeks.” a soft voice chimed in once Kenma had reached the end of the piece he’d been playing. Kenma’s eyes blinked open with a teensy bit of surprise. Honestly he’d forgotten that Sugawara was in the room. 

Kenma chewed on his lip and let his violin and bow rest on his lap. Hearing praise for his playing was still something that warranted some level of nervousness. 

“Oh..really?” he responded, pensive. Sugawara nodded with a chuckle. 

“You have a more lighthearted air about you as well. Clearly something’s been influencing you positively.” A small pout graced Kenma’s lips as the boy looked off the to side. Sugawara’s sense of perception was impeccable as always. He was incredibly adept at reading people despite being blind himself. 

“Ohh..” 

Sugawara’s grin grew and the older man leaned on his side against his desk, his chin perched keenly over his hand. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to though, Kenma. No pressure.” 

“Mmkay.” Kenma stared down at the strings of his violin, feeling a mix of emotions in his stomach. Of course he was pleased that his skills were improving, but in all his years as Kenma’s violin teacher Sugawara had never mentioned anything about his playing becoming lighter. Given that violin was one of Kenma’s few escapes, the young man’s playing was often described as “heavy with emotion” or “burdened by frustration” by his teacher. 

So why was it now that Kenma’s playing was becoming...lighter? 

Kenma’s stomach grumbled. 

Well..he’d certainly had a light breakfast..no, no. This had to be related to him. The person who’d barrelled into this life so unexpectedly a little over a month ago. 

Kuroo. 

Of course Kuroo’s involvement in Kenma’s life wasn’t exactly an unwelcome or negative thing. In fact, their text messages and Skype conversations were quickly attaining a fixed place in Kenma’s day to day life. Kenma’s brow furrowed. 

“Sugawara-san.” 

“Mm?” 

“Can I ask you a question? Um, it’s more hypothetical but-” 

“‘Course. Go on.” 

“Um..say I have a friend..or my friend has a friend. A kind-of annoying friend. But I guess they don’t mean to be annoying..?? Well they’re um..very nice to be around. But they’re also like...very popular and well-liked.” Kenma chewed his bottom lip, trying to find the right words. 

“Anyways..I guess..my friend doesn’t want, uh..to be left behind. By the other person. My friend...thinks it’s nice to have that other person in their life right now. My friend..wants to keep sticking around that person for while. Umm..so I guess, the question. Is that friend..selfish..for feeling that way?” Kenma glanced up Sugawara. 

Sugawara let out a curious humming sound and thought about Kenma’s little hypothetical. He too could relate to those feelings. How pleasant it felt to have an “important person”’s attention, but also how nerve-wracking it could be. Sugawara certainly didn’t identify with the world of movers and shakers anymore. Once upon a time he was a fairly successful (extremely successful) concert violinist. But a series of unfortunate and ill-timed events ultimately led to the loss Sugawara’s eyes. Without the presence of a particular hot-blooded producer by his side during those dark times, Sugawara wasn’t sure where he would be today. 

Sugawara smiled and reached toward Kenma with an open hand. Kenma placed his hand in Sugawara’s as the latter smiled. 

“Kenma, I’d say if your friend is worried they’ll be left behind..or become a burden to the other person, it’s probably just their own anxiety getting the better of them. It’s perfectly natural to feel a bit insecure about people who unexpectedly come into our lives. But it’s fair to say that if they make an effort to be around you, they wouldn’t just up and vanish one day, right?” 

Kenma thought about the ten or so texts Kuroo had probably already sent him while he was practicing with Sugawara and tried his best to brush off the twinges of a smile. 

“..Probably not.” he replied. 

“Good. If your friend wants to though, they can try and get more involved with the other person’s activities and life. Small things, y’know so they won’t feel it’s so one-sided and such. That way both parties are investing equal parts into the relationship.” Sugawara explained. 

“Ahh okay. Thank you, Sugawara-san.” Kenma replied, offering a smile. Sugawara seemed to have sensed that and responded with a smile of his own and a pat on Kenma’s hand. 

“Of course. I wish the best for your friends. But it feels like our time is almost up today.” Kenma nodded. Their two and a half hour lesson was almost over. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Don’t worry about cleaning, Sugawara-san, I’ll get it.” Kenma organized his sheet music and put them away into his bag, also reaching for his phone in the side pocket to check it. 

14 New Messages: Kuroo Tetsurou

Upon seeing that, Kenma returned his phone to its pocket and went back to cleaning with a little smile gracing his features. 

=====

Lev leaned his upper body over the back of the sofa, his eyes glinting with mischief as he teased his fellow bandmate, Oikawa Tooru, about the newest event that their deranged CEO had just dropped on them. Oikawa did his best to ignore the bassist, but it was fucking Lev after all. 

“Soo. Who you gonna ask? Who you gonna ask to the paaaaaarty??” Oikawa tsk’ed at him. 

“I don’t see the point in us bringing dates, Lev.” 

Lev shrugged and leaned more of his unnaturally long body over the sofa’s edge. 

“I dunno either. Probably so we can’t just ditch the shin-dig early.” 

Oikawa rolled his eyes. It had been another one of (his darling) Mikasa’s ideas to throw a big promotional party at Wikasa Records for the Trash King’s new song/official homecoming from their label. It’d be a good chance for the band members to socializes and bump elbows with some hotshots and new blood in the music-making business again now that the Trash Kings were reaching the home stretch of their welcome-back concerts in Japan. It was a nice gesture on Mikasa’s part actually, the event was to be fully catered, the venue was top-notch (the Wikasa Records tower was nothing to scoff at) and it’d be a great platform to introduce the general public to their first new single in ages.

Given that “Not About Angels” was so very different from all their stuff in the past, producing and tweaking that track had been an arduous task, but the final product was something to be proud of. Mikasa giving them a grand stage to showcase the song was going to be extremely beneficial. 

But no, Mikasa had added her own little clause to her party deal, she wanted each member to come with a friend- a date, per se. Lev was probably right about the plus one being there to keep the members from leaving the event and or potentially saying/doing something to make the group look bad in front of all Japan’s music industry big wigs. Oikawa supposed that was fair, but it was going to be a hassle to find a date..

N-Not that the legendary ladykiller, Oikawa Tooru, needed help getting a date. The great Oikawa charm was more than enough to get even the most demure lady swooning. But the issue was..Oikawa wasn’t looking to ask a girl to be his date. Rather, he was planning on asking someone who probably scowled more than they smiled, someone with big (really nice) forearms and biceps, someone with brown spiky hair.

Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa wanted Iwaizumi to be his date. 

Easier said (in the comfort of his own mind) than done though. 

The Trash Kings’ poor overworked manager had been putting in double the hours lately finalizing the plans for the release of their new single, along with helping Mikasa’s staff put together the upcoming Trash Kings party. The only time Oikawa or any of the other band members saw their manager was either early in the morning when he was creeping quietly out of the suite with a coffee in hand or coming home late at night, carrying a stack of papers and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

OIkawa felt really bad for Iwaizumi actually. He didn’t enjoy seeing his childhood friend work himself to the bone day-to-day but the latter was the type to shoulder all the responsibility and work on himself. He’d been that way since the two of them were kids; from the times Oikawa would fall and cut his knee and Iwaizumi would piggyback his crying best friend back down the mountain to when Iwaizumi would hike through the woods carrying Oikawa’s telescope and alien-hunting gear while Oikawa ran eagerly ahead of him. It was hard to think of a time when Iwaizumi wasn’t acting as the responsible adult in any situation. 

Plus it wasn’t like any of OIkawa’s other attempts to sway his best friend’s affections had ever worked in the past. Iwaizumi still looked at him with the same grumpy, but familiar expression. It sometimes annoyed Oikawa how perfect of a manager Iwaizumi Hajime really was. Damn his professionalism, his ability to multitask, his rock-solid calves. 

“You’re making that face again.” Lev quipped, knocking Oikawa out of his own thoughts.

“What? What face? No, I’m not!!” 

“Yeaaah you are. You’re doing that thing with your lip. Kinda like Kageyama. Oh! It’s your pout thing!” he exclaimed, jutting an accusatory finger at Oikawa’s (obviously) nonexistent pout. He wasn’t pouting. It wasn’t a pout. Maybe he was getting a little frustrated thinking about Iwaizumi but..not a pout. 

“Shut up. I’m not pouting.” Oikawa replied defensively. 

“You must be frustrated. Something not going your way?” Lev snickered. 

Oikawa was like, 99.9% sure his cheeks didn’t turn a bit red. But Lev might disagree with that. 

“No. I’m fine. It’s none of your business.” 

“Mmkaaaay,” Lev replied, sliding back and retreating behind the sofa. Teasing the Trash Kings’ guitarist was a fun pastime, but it came with certain dangers as Oikawa’s mood could easily fluctuate into the “physical violence” territory. 

“..Ugh. OKAY. Lev Haiba, hypothetically, how would you ask out someone who has ignored all your previous endeavors at...feelings.” Oikawa seemed to bite out that last word. 

Lev stared at the brunette quizzically. 

“We talkin’ ‘bout you hitting on Iwaizum-”

“HYPOTHETICALLY.” Lev flinched at Oikawa’s near screeching voice. 

“Yeesh. Okay. Well. Uhhh...I’ve never encountered such a problem to be honest,” Oikawa glared daggers in Lev’s direction. “But I’d say find something in common with them and use that as a starting point. Then I lay on the charm and reel them in.” 

“What.” 

“Yeah! For example: ‘You like fish? I LOVE fish. People say there’s plenty of fish in the sea but, you’re the only fish for me. You’re the special fish. Date me.” For a sick touch, Lev waggled his eyebrows. 

“..I fucking hate you, Lev.” Oikawa groaned as he turned to leave the room, rubbing his temples to ease the pain of words that had just come from Lev’s mouth. 

=====

Tsukishima had heard a lot of bad ideas in his life, he lived with the other members of the Trash Kings after all, but this had to one of the worst ideas to date. Right up there with Bokuto’s (patent-pending) ramen noodle bath bombs and the short-lived, lev-haiba-for-real-justice blog. 

However the shit that Kuroo was spouting right now-

“I think it’s a great idea.” Kuroo added. 

See, lately Kuroo had taken to asking for Tsukishima’s advice on all things relating to Kenma Kozume. Tsukishima wasn’t sure if it was because he and Kuroo used to have a “kind-of relationship/thing” in the past, but Tsukishima preferred to leaving those things where they belonged: the past. But over the past two weeks or so, Kuroo had been coming into Tsukishima’s room, flopping onto his bed and venting to the blonde about his lovesick puppy affairs.

Don’t be mistaken though, Tsukishima held no ill feelings towards Kuroo over their past, nor was he jealous that Kuroo had finally found someone new to invest his feelings in after all this time. 

So he was fair to Kuroo, he patiently listened to Kuroo’s complaints and gross gushing. He replied honestly when the older man asked a question or when he wanted Tsukishima’s opinion. But, this being Kuroo, regardless of someone else’s opinion, if Kuroo had it in his mind to do something...he’d do it. No matter how stupid it might be. 

I mean, that was how Kuroo had become a rockstar, but that kind of logic was very flawed in its own. And if Tsukishima’s suspicions were correct, Kuroo’s latest stunt was likely to end in a fiasco.

Tsukishima sighed, taking off his glasses to wipe them with the hem of his shirt. 

“What’s your thinking behind this, Kuroo?” he asked. 

Kuroo hummed and scratched at his stomach.

“I think that if Kenma faces his fear, he’ll have no choice but to overcome it. And once he does I’ll be there to hug him and if he’s feeling so inclined, he’ll wanna make out with me to express his triumph and happiness.” 

Tsukishima held back a sigh, but he still fixed the vocalist with a deadpan stare.

“Aw, you know I’m joking. I do think that at the end of the day it’ll be good for him. Kenma needs to get over his stage fright and I’m the perfect person to give him that little push.” 

“One that might be very unnecessary.” Tsukishima retorted. 

“..I still think it’ll be okay in the end.” Kuroo pouted, looking at his phone and scrolling through his chatlogs with Kenma. It was nearing 11PM and the boy was probably in bed, playing Love Live under his covers. The corners of Kuroo’s lips quirked up at the thought. So cute. 

“How do you even plan on executing such a stunt, Kuroo? Have you given that any thought?” 

“Erm, well first I gotta ask Kenma to come with me to the Wikasa party..oh! While we’re on that topic, who are you planning on bringing??” Kuroo suddenly asked, turning the conversation on its heels. 

“Me? Probably Yamaguchi...he’s already Mikasa’s assistant so it won’t be an inconvenience for him to go. Mikasa probably expects him there anyways.” Tsukishima shrugged. Kuroo made an o shape with his mouth, clearly impressed with the blonde. 

“So smooth, Tsukki. So smooth. You were never this suave with me, I’m almost jealous.” he teased. Tsukishima rolled his eyes. 

“Shut up.”   
=====  
To: cinnamonrolltoogoodforthisworldTOOPURE  
Sent: 20/12/14 @ 12:14AM 

AKAASHI I HAV e A qUESTION!! 

\---  
To: Bokuto  
Sent: 20/12/14 @ 12:16AM

Bokuto...is it important..?  
\---  
To: cinnamonrolltoogoodforthisworldTOOPURE  
Sent: 20/12/14 @ 12:16AM

yeeeeee  
\---  
To: Bokuto  
Sent: 20/12/14 @ 12:17AM

Ok, what’s your question?  
\---  
To: cinnamonrolltoogoodforthisworldTOOPURE  
Sent: 20/12/14 @ 12:18AM

WILL yOU GO  
WIKASA PART Y   
?? !?!!  
\---  
To: Bokuto  
Sent: 20/12/14 @ 12:19AM

Um..yes? I’m going anyways since I’m on security detail..  
\---  
To: cinnamonrolltoogoodforthisworldTOOPURE  
Sent: 20/12/14 @ 12:18AM

WITH ME??! AS MY DATE??

..if you wanna. :’)   
\---  
To: Bokuto  
Sent: 20/12/14 @ 12:20AM

OHh. Ah, yes! Soinds great!   
I’d love to, Bokuto-sann  
\---  
To: cinnamonrolltoogoodforthisworldTOOPURE  
Sent: 20/12/14 @ 12:21AM

AWWWWWW YISSSSSS  
ok ok, good night, akaashi!! sweet dreams!!:))  
\---  
To: SUCKMYASSkuroo  
Sent: 20/12/14 @ 12:22AM

BRUHHH HE SAID YESSSSSS  
\---  
To: Yaboybokuto  
Sent: 20/12/14 @ 12:23 AM

**{insert the good good shit emoji meme here}**

=====

Kenma twiddled his thumbs as he watched Kuroo play on the guitar. It was another one of their late night skype chats, the kind where there isn’t much talking and both of them are doing their own thing (Kuroo playing guitar or penning down a new bridge to use and Kenma playing Persona or slaving away at Love Live). As much as it flatters Kenma to have Kuroo belting out songs dedicated to him during calls, Kenma thinks that the quiet skype nights are the ones that are most pleasant. It almost feels like Kuroo’s right there with him and Kenma’s not actually alone in his room playing video games in the dark. 

‘If your friend wants to though, they can try and get more involved with the other person’s activities and life. Small things, y’know so they won’t feel it’s so one-sided,’ Kenma’s mind is on Sugawara’s words rather than Kotori of μ's so he puts his phone off to the side. Kuroo’s still lost in his mini-jam session though. 

Kenma decides it’s time to put Sugawara’s advice into practice and psychs himself up for the conversation. It really shouldn’t be that hard...he and Kuroo have been friends for a while now. It’s doubtful that Kenma asking about his day will be what scares Kuroo off. 

“Kuro-” 

“Ken-” 

Both boys hush themselves, having awkwardly interrupted each other simultaneously like that. 

“Um..you go first.” Kenma says first.

“No, no! Kenma, you had something to say first. I interrupted, I’m sorry. Go ahead.” he replies, encouraging the younger boy with soft smile. Kenma’s cheeks turn a bit rosy. 

“Mm..I just wanted to ask..how your day went?” Kenma avoided looking at his laptop screen from which Kuroo was blinking at his webcam. 

“Eh? Oh well. It was really chill. Got lunch with the guys, picked up some dry cleaning with Akaashi and Bokuto. Nothing exciting really..oh, unless you count when Lev got his hand stuck in a vase at the hotel we’re staying at. Ushijima was real ticked, haha.” Kuroo snickered and Kenma chuckled. While his actual interactions with the rest of Kuroo’s band mates were fairly low, he had a good idea of what they were all like from Kuroo’s stories. 

“Sounds like fun, Kuroo.” Kenma replied.

“Yeahhh. Speaking of which, Kenma are you free next week? Like on Saturday night??” Kuroo asked. 

He was free, yes. Kenma wasn’t exactly one for the weekend nightlife, much to Shouyou’s chagrin but was Kuroo asking him to hang out? It wasn’t strange, really. They’d hung out one-on-one after the evenings spent at the theater, but that was always predicated on the going to the theater first.

Naturally, Kenma’s cheeks turned a little more pink in color and the boy was thankful for the dim lighting in his room. He nodded to say he was, indeed, free the coming Saturday.

“Sweet! Do you wanna come hang out with me at this party at Wikasa Records then? I actually um...need your help with something..” 

“..What is it?” 

“It’s a set! You remember that song you helped me write and stuff? The guys and I are playing it for the first time in its completed form to the people at the party. And I really, really want you to come and play your violin part at the show.”

“..Uh..I don’t know about that, Kuroo..” Kenma frowned. 

“Pleaaaase? I just know it won’t sound right without you. You’re the most important part of that song, Kenma..” Kuroo pleaded, looking dolefully through the computer screen at Kenma. Kenma felt his chest get all warm and fuzzy. Ughh it was hard to say no to Kuroo when he said stuff like that. 

“I can’t play in front of people, Kuroo. You know that.” 

“Right! I thought of that too! You’ll be behind a screen so you won’t have to see the people in the audience. And I’ll be right up there on stage with you so you can just focus on me if you want. I’ll do my best to distract you.” Kuroo grinned cheekily. 

Kenma thought about it. While a part of him really did want to stand on the same stage as Kuroo and play their song together, the part where he was actually up ON the stage with actual people listening to him still freaked Kenma out.

But...on the other hand..Kenma really didn’t want to keep pushing Kuroo away like this. Especially when the older boy was going through such lengths to accommodate him. Sugawara’s words were also in the back of his mind. Kenma was worried he was putting too much of the relationship on Kuroo. It was selfish of him to expect Kuroo to do all the work in their friendship like this. Kenma owed a lot to Kuroo, because of him he was becoming more open with his feelings, he was able to talk to someone freely about his problems, and most remarkably, Kenma’s music was changing for the better. That song their worked on together was the first time in a long time for Kenma where music didn’t just feel like a convenient escape. He got to create something wonderful with Kuroo and he took pride in that. 

They both did. 

That’s why Kuroo was asking him to do this now, he supposed. 

Kenma swallowed the dryness in his throat and nodded. 

“Okay, Kuroo. I’ll do it.” 

=====

Oikawa paced back and forth in the Shiratorizawa lobby with his thumbnail against his mouth, fighting the urge to start nibbling at his thumbnail but too stubborn to do anything but pace in that posture. He was nervous. Obviously. 

The guitarist was trying to catch his manager on his way back from a business meeting.

Today was going to be the day that OIkawa would ask out Iwaizumi to the party. 

Not that he had much time left to procrastinate, the party was tomorrow actually. 

He’d spent so much time brainstorming quirky and clever ways to bring up the conversation that the date had managed to creep up on him while Oikawa was (procrastinating) perfecting this technique. Now there was no more time left and he needed to make a move, or be the only one in the band to not bring someone. Even Lev had managed to get someone to go with him. It was now or never. 

‘Shit, shit, there he is. Okay, Tooru, do your thing! Work some of that good ol’ Oikawa magic on him..oh shit, oh shit. He looks grumpy...grumpier than usual? Noo this isn’t going to go well. Ughh, Iwaizumi’s grumpy looks are still attractive though. What kind of sorcery-’ Oikawa forced himself out of his thoughts and stepped right in front of his manager, who luckily had the reflexes to stop in time and avoid a collision. 

“What the hell, Oikawa. Watch where you’re going,” he scolded the guitarist who only seemed to brush his words right off. Iwaizumi’s frown only deepened. 

“I-Iwaizumi! Heeey. Um, long time no see?” Dammit, what the hell, Oikawa. 

“Hi. I saw you this morning, idiot.” Iwaizumi replied, tossing that insult at Oikawa with practiced ease. 

“Oh that’s right! Ahaha, good times..good times.” I hate myself. Oikawa could only hope he wasn’t actually sweating as much as he felt like he was. 

“Are you sick? You look kind sweaty.” God DAMMIT. 

“N-Nevermind that! Iwaizumi, y-you like parties and I like parties! And there’s that Wikasa party right?” Fuck, shit, was he really using Lev’s line right now?? 

“Ughh. Don’t even mention that thing. That woman gives me a migraine every day I see her plus she basically put all the work for that stupid party on me.” Iwaizumi grumbled and rubbed his temples. Really even the mention of that fiendish woman brought back the echos of a headache, also Oikawa was being super weird right now. Like...more weird than usual, if possible. 

“Actually I wanted to talk to you about that! I-” Oikawa started off. 

“Argh my head. Look, Oikawa, if it’s not important, can this wait till later? My head’s killing me and it’s been a long day.” Oikawa closed his mouth, Iwaizumi wasn’t even looking at him. His eyes were closed and he was just rubbing the side of his head. 

Oikawa felt the rest of his sentence simply slip back down his throat. Seeing Oikawa’s change in mood, Iwaizumi chose to resume walking to the nearest elevator to head up to the Trash Kings’ suite. A tall glass of water and an Aleve were calling his name. 

Without another word OIkawa watched Iwaizumi go past him and leave the lobby. His plan had failed. Oikawa walked over to the sofa and sat down, leaning back and letting his head fall back over the wood finish of the furniture. He barely resisted the urge to let out a groan of frustration. 

But suddenly Oikawa’s vision was soon overtaken by another handsome face. Someone with a stern expression rivaling even Iwaizumi’s. 

“Ushijima!” Oikawa exclaimed, surprised to see the Shiratorizawa hotel manager there even though he WAS the manager of said hotel. 

“Your negative aura is disrupting the feng shui of my lobby.” was Ushijima’s reply. 

Oikawa was silent. 

“..P-pft. Bwahahahahah. Oh my god, what?” Oikawa exclaimed again, holding his sides as he laughed. Ushijima however didn’t crack even a hint of a smile. He was 100% serious. 

“I received a pamphlet on feng shui the other day. I thought incorporating themes from my culture would improve the overall atmosphere of this lobby.” he explained. 

“Ooh, I see. That’s actually pretty interesting, Ushijima. I didn’t know you were Chinese.” Oikawa mused, moving over on his couch and motioning for Ushijima to sit with him. The latter simply shrugged and took a seat. 

“I moved here when I was a teenager. It’s a been a while since then.” 

“Obviously.” Oikawa nodded. 

“..Were you upset about something earlier?” Ushijima stared at the younger man. Oikawa stared pensively back though he didn’t see anything judgemental in Ushijima’s eyes. The man was fairly easy to read since he didn’t feel the need to hide things or keep everything to himself. 

Unlike some people. 

Oikawa’s expression turned a bit sour before huffing and letting his negative emotions go. 

“Not really. I just don’t like being ignored is all.” 

“I don’t think anyone does.” was Ushijima’s honest reply. 

“No..I don’t think so either.” Oikawa mumbled. Then, without thinking he asked, “Ushijima..are you, are you busy tomorrow?” 

=====

Judging from the fact that Oikawa hadn’t followed him up the elevator within the next five minutes, Iwaizumi could gather that he’d upset his childhood friend. So he swallowed that Aleve and a chunk of his pride to make the trip back down to the lobby to go collect Oikawa. There were a lot of things on Iwaizumi’s plate right now and the last thing he wanted was an upset best friend. Oikawa’s rotten attitude when he was a mad dashed away any of the cuteness in his pouts. 

But to Iwaizumi’s...displeasure, he arrived back at the lobby to find Oikawa sitting with Ushijima, the hotel manager who complained that it wasn’t his job to clean up after the Trash Kings left messes in the building...but clearly had enough time on his hands to get all buddy-buddy with Oikawa Tooru. 

What a jackass. 

Iwaizumi was about to go stomp over there and give him a piece of his mind, but he halted in his tracks once he saw OIkawa pull Ushijima into a sudden embrace. 

I mean...Oikawa hadn’t seen Iwaizumi so the hug couldn’t have been out of spite to make him jealous. But jealousy was the only word apt to fit the emotion he was currently feeling. It bubbled up from the base of his stomach like something unpleasant. And suddenly iwaizumi didn’t feel comfortable in that lobby anymore. He didn’t want to see his best friend and Ushijima like that so Iwaizumi turned around and went back into the elevator. 

As the doors closed and the lift started moving upwards, Iwaizumi couldn’t shake the feeling he’d made a mistake. 

=====

Heavy music, bumping bodies and an open bar. The party was starting to reach its peak form by the time Kenma had managed to wander into the building and up to its 47th floor where the extravagant Trash Kings/Wikasa party was being held. The smell of alcohol and fancy colognes and perfumes made up a large portion of the breathing air in vicinity. And while the flashing strobe lights against shapes of moving people gave Kenma the impression of a wild party, there was a decidedly calculated attitude about it. No one at the party is actually getting sloppy drunk or making a fool of themselves on the dance floor. There was an abundance of security personnel dotted around the venue but all the party-goers seemed to be in control ofl their actions. 

Kenma made his way through some of the dancing bodies and conversing individuals to the sofa, no one bumped into him on purpose and the crowds separated when they need to. Kenma was actually pretty pleased with the “clean” nature of the party, but was doubtful this was how the social elite actually were at parties like this. He’s unaware that everyone was poignantly aware of the nature of the party and particularly whose building they would be making a mess of if things did get out of hand. Everyone knew a promotional party is still business, albeit wrapped in pretty gift paper and ribbon and no one was secure enough in their own lot to take up a feud with Kururugi Mikasa. 

A server offered Kenma a fancy glass containing some fruity looking liquid despite Kenma insisting he didn’t drink. Kenma took the glass anyway to make the server go away. He still didn’t drink it though, eyeing it warily instead, knowing its potential evils. How could something so sweet-looking and strawberry-flavored actually be so terrible? 

“You could just take a sip of it if you’re really curious.” a familiar voice suggested. 

Kenma looked up and is greeted with the friendly cat-like smile of Kuroo Tetsurou, Trash Kings frontman himself. 

Kuroo gave Kenma a one-armed hug and welcomed him to the party. He walked closely with Kenma, navigating the both of them around the controlled chaos, pointing out and identifying a few people of interest here and there. 

“That’s Nishinoya Yuu, he owns most of the Shibuya 109 building and he’s super into fashion himself. Pretty fun guy.” Kuroo said, tipping his head in the direction of a man of shorter stature with black hair and bleached bangs dressed in funky designer clothes. 

“Ukai Keishin, I think his grandfather owns half the real estate in Gangnam over in South Korea. He’s one of those jet-setter bad boy heirs, y’know?” Kenma nodded, blinking at the tall, tan figure with dyed sandy brown hair who clearly gave no shits about the no-smoking indoors policy the building had. 

“Oh dang, Aone Takanobu is here too! You might’ve seen him on TV actually if you’ve seen some of the UFC fights. They say he’s going to be the next middleweight champ. His defensive stances are impenetrable.” Kuroo pointed over at an expressionless, but very very tall blonde man standing off to the side of the open bar. 

Kenma didn’t have much to say really. This was the first time he’d been in such a star-studded crowd. His parents sometimes had business guests over at the house too, but they never bothered to introduce their lofty titles to Kenma, not that he’s particularly interested either. 

Kenma felt a warm hand cover his own and glanced to his side, Kuroo’s had his hand wrapped around Kenma’s as he guided them both through all the hustle and bustle. A little blush worked its way onto Kenma’s cheeks until Kuroo reached a reasonably secluded area. They made it up the stairs to the terrace outside that faced the prettiest Tokyo skyline that money could buy. 

There were a bunch of chairs and comfy outdoor sofas around a marble coffee table along with fancy outdoor fireplace. Kuroo chose to settle himself into a rocking chair and Kenma sat down near him at the end of one of the sofas. A few moments of silence passed between the two before Kuroo started up a conversation. 

“So, what do you think of it? The lifestyle of a rockstar?” he joked.

“It’s very noisy.” Kenma answered honestly. “I’m guessing it’s not always like this though.”

“Nahh, you’re right. This whole shin-dig is over-the-top even for me. I think playing at stages across the world has numbed my hearing down some though. I still think I could fall asleep with all that ruckus.” Kuroo gave Kenma a toothy grin.

“You’re nuts.” Kenma remarked. 

“Ehh? You think? Hahah, maybe I am. Sometimes I miss the quiet life though. Living the fast life is very tiring.” Kuroo reached back and yawned up into the night sky. Kenma chuckled, noting the similarity between Kuroo and a sleepy cat. “What?” 

Kenma shook his head. “Nothing,” 

Kuroo watched Kenma quietly, his eyes filled with a type of pensive interest. The younger boy returned the gaze without a word. The two went on like this for another minute before Kuroo finally pulled back with a smile, a thought both of them share caught in the silence. 

I’m glad I met you. 

=====

Oikawa had tried his best to be an attentive date, but he feared he’d been slipping into the recesses of his own thoughts too often to make Ushijima feel comfortable. Too often Oikawa found himself wondering where Iwaizumi was, what he was doing, who was with. He was acutely aware of how rude that was to Ushijima especially since Oikawa had been the one to ask him to come with him to the party after he’d failed so miserably to ask Iwaizumi (not that he told Ushijima that part, of course). 

But Oikawa couldn’t help it. He hadn’t seen much of Iwaizumi at the suite and he’d come to the party separate, citing reasons related to running errands for Mikasa for having to arrive later than the others. Oikawa watched as the other members of the Trash Kings had drifted off into the crowd once they arrived at the party. No one had actually arrived to the event alongside their date as to avoid tabloid or gossip taking the focus of the party. Everyone’s date would arrive separately on their own accord and the band members were left to their own design until it was time to play their set at the end of the night. 

Ushijima, perfectly punctual as always, had arrived after Oikawa a mere ten minutes after the latter. From then the two had wandered around the party and bar, pausing to have vapid conversations that didn’t stick in Oikawa’s mind for longer than a minute or so. He was so distracted and he knew it, but he didn’t know how to take his mind off his best friend. 

Ushijima must have noticed this because before Oikawa could protest, the older man was leading them onto the dance floor. A series of thoughts rifled through Oikawa’s brain. First and foremost, outside of girl group K-pop dances, Oikawa really...really...really doesn’t dance. And definitely not in front of other people. The one time that Bokuto had walked in on him dancing to Beyonce’s 7/11, the owl-boy had hardly escaped with his life. Second, is Ushijima a club person?? Oikawa never would have guessed from the man’s stoic disposition but holy shittttt. 

The way Ushijima was moving his body to beat was incredible. It’s almost supernatural. Supernatural in that Oikawa is so shocked, he felt like he’d witnessed a ghost. His and Ushijima’s bodies weren’t touching per se, but the way that Ushijima is moving...so fluid to the beat and even to Oikawa’s own awkward motions, made him wonder. 

And so, little by little, Oikawa let go of his inhibitions and danced alongside Ushijima. It’s really something else. There are moments where it gets very sensual and Oikawa finds himself pressed closely against Ushijima as they move...and there are fun moments when Ushijima spins Oikawa or they start doing some silly dance move like the shopping cart in the middle of the dance floor. 

Oikawa laughed as he and Ushijima danced the night away. Ushijima might not be the best conversationalist, but he knew what to do without being prompted and sometimes all Oikawa wanted was to feel at ease and taken care of. 

=====

Iwaizumi downed yet another shot, quickly motioning at the bartender to pour him a few more. For the headache planning this party had been, the open bar was slowly making it up for it. But the troubled manager had a lot more than the everyday business blues bothering him, no, he’d been graced with the sight of Oikawa and Ushijima (of all fucking people) bumping and grinding on the dance floor when he’d arrived to the event. Fan-fucking-tastic. 

Of course it wasn’t up to Iwaizumi who Oikawa chose to bring to the party but ughhh...Ushijima, really? Didn’t he have a hotel to take care of or something? 

Whatever. 

Iwaizumi shoved the rest of the empty shot glasses the bartender’s way and chilled out for a bit, allowing the alcohol the move through his system with a warm burning sensation. What the hell was he doing getting all worked up over Oikawa and Ushijima? Their relationship didn’t and shouldn’t concern him, but-

“Iwa-chan!” Iwaizumi looked up a bit too quickly and instantly regretted it, the drinks were starting to make him feel sluggish. 

“Ehh? Oh. Hey, Oikawa.” he grumbled. 

“When did you get here? And..how many of those have you had?” Oikawa asked, eying the copious shot glasses that Iwaizumi had pushed away from himself just prior. 

Iwaizumi shrugged. 

“Recently. And I had enough.” Oikawa couldn’t help from frowning at how clipped his answers were. Iwaizumi only drank when he was in a bad mood, but it was clear that Oikawa wasn’t going to be able to get much out of his friend right now. 

Iwaizumi glanced at his phone to check the time. 

“Oikawa. Go find the others and get ready for your guys’ set.” Iwaizumi said, slipping into manager-mode as a way to get the brunette away from him right now. Oikawa stared at Iwaizumi for a bit before assenting. He patted Iwaizumi’s shoulder before disappearing back into the crowd. 

A wave of guilt rolled over Iwaizumi’s body once Oikawa left. Iwaizumi sighed and waved at the bartender for another shot. 

=====

Okay, okay. Don’t panic. You can do this. You can do this. You’ve played this a hundred times before. It’s no big deal. Just pretend they’re not there. It’s fine. No big deal. You’re fine, you’re fine, you can do this, you’re okay, you’re-

“Kenma.” 

Huh?? 

Kenma opened his eyes and saw Kuroo. He also saw he was still backstage...with an audience full of people on the other end. Waiting to hear him play, waiting to hear him mess up. Oh god, Kenma felt dizzy again. 

“Kuroo, I don’t know if I can go through with this.” Kenma said breathlessly.

Kuroo placed both his hands on Kenma’s shoulders and knelt down a bit so the two of them were at eye level with each other. He stared into Kenma’s eyes, searching for something. 

“Kenma. Listen to me, sometimes we have to face our fears head-on so we can come out stronger on the other side. You can do this. I believe in you. You’re amazing and I want everyone else to know that as well.” 

Honestly, Kenma heard words, they were probably nice words, but he already felt so far. To Kenma it was like he was both present in the situation, but at the same time, he wasn’t. He felt somewhat dazed as Kuroo took his hand to lead him to his spot hidden behind the curtain. The feeling of Kuroo’s hand was familiar though. Kenma gave it a squeeze like Kuroo’s hand was one of the few things tethering him to earth. 

Kenma watched the rest of Kuroo’s band members orient themselves into their positions as a loud woman’s voice echoed out beyond the curtain.

“-And now, without further adieu! The Trash Kings, with their new single “Not About Angels”!” 

The curtain peeled back and revealed Kuroo and the others while still keeping Kenma safely hidden. 

Tsukishima began the song from the piano and Kuroo started singing shortly after. The mellow tone of his voice was soothing to hear and as the other members of the group stepped forth to sing their selective parts. Their voices blended in a sad harmony that held the audience in silence. 

Soon the first half of the song was over and it was nearing the time when Kenma would come in with the addition of his violin. With shaky arms Kenma lifted the violin to his shoulder and pressed the side of his face into the chin rest. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. 

“How unfair, it’s just our love..” Kuroo sang. 

From sheer practice and muscle memory Kenma began playing. His eyes were still closed and Kenma took to hiding himself further by delving into his music. He was almost unaware of the rush of chatter that swept through the audience suddenly. 

“Don’t give me upppp,” Kuroo belted together with Oikawa and Lev. 

Kenma dared to open one eye just slightly. 

Big mistake. 

He saw a whole sea of people before him. The audience. All gazing up on stage. Looking at him, watching him play, judging him. Kenma sucked up a mouthful of air in shock, but it didn’t feel like any oxygen had reached his lungs. He staggered back and as his arms fell slack at his sides, just barely keeping his instrument in his hands. 

In the middle of the audience, filled with people from the social elite and some of the biggest names in Japan were two people in particular. 

Kenma’s parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **angry 2nd version note continued here. so after like half an hour of anxiety and screaming i figured out WHY exactly ao3 cut off the chapter at that fucking part and it was because i had copy and pasted the GOOD SHIT GOOD SHIT MMHM emoji meme AND APPARENTLY AO3 DOES NOT RECOGNIZE THAT TEXT/EMOJI BECAUSE THAT'S WHERE THE CHAPTER GOT CHOPPED OFF. so basically i got fucked over by memes.**
> 
> **ao3...why do you hate memes????**
> 
> tfw there's not enough tsukiyama or bokuaka, don't worry guys. i feel this LOL. the end of the kenma arc is neigh tho and my personal favorite arc (kuroo arc lmao how creative are these name ahaha) is coming up soon. there will be plenty more about character's backgrounds and probably some chapters that focus solely on the other pairings rather than just kuroken main plot. wooo. 
> 
> find me at my [tumblr](mikaelahyakyua.tumblr.com) and feel free to drop me an ask. i love talking to my readers haha and sharing plot ideas too. 
> 
> as always comments & kudos are appreciated~


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